


Those Lost And (Not) Found

by Saremina



Series: Shelter [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Galra Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mystery, Not Canon Compliant, POV Multiple, Psychological Trauma, Stockholm Syndrome, Team Bonding, Violence, at all
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-07
Updated: 2019-02-16
Packaged: 2019-06-06 16:53:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 38
Words: 241,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15199220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saremina/pseuds/Saremina
Summary: Taken from Zarkon and unsure of how to return to the Empire, Keith tries to adjust to being back on the Castle of Lions. It's easier said than done as Keith finds himself constantly at odds with his friends, and with the Galra Empire in a state of chaos and Voltron and their allies doing everything in their power to bring the Empire down, Keith has to decide where his loyalties lie.The strange, new force rising in the shadows only complicates things further.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is gonna have more than one POV just because that's the only way I can tell this story in a way it will make sense. Keith and Shiro will be the main POV's with other characters POV added where needed.
> 
> Let's get this show on the road again!

Keith drifts in and out of consciousness, the softness of whatever he's lying on keeping him from opening his eyes and taking the final step to wakefulness.

He doesn’t know where he is, but something is wrong, he's sure of it. He feels too empty and something deep inside him hurts so bad he thinks it might kill him. He reaches for the bond — for Zarkon — but where there's usually warmth there is …

Nothing.

The world disappears from around Keith, like he missed the final step of stairs and for a moment he's falling, then the world crashes down around him too soon and so hard it knocks the air out of him.

Keith gasps for air, his eyes flying open.

He sees nothing but darkness, and the air he tries to fill his lungs with gets stuck in his throat. He rolls over and the ground disappears from beneath him.

Keith yelps and flails until he connects with the floor. His breaths come in fast, shallow puffs, and he turns his head from one side to the other, trying to see something familiar in the blurry shadows surrounding him.

He can't breathe.

He's alone in the dark and _he can't breathe_.

It's dark and he doesn't know where he is and he's alone and he can't feel Zarkon.

He's dying. He has to be. Nothing else would bring so much pain to him.

Where is Zarkon?

A blinding light illuminates the room and Keith scrunches his eyes and cries out, the pain in his mind becoming physical as his eyes burn and water from the sudden onslaught. He presses his forehead to the ground and covers his head with his arms, letting his hair fall all around him.

“Keith!”

It sounds like Shiro. It sounds too much like Shiro and Keith wants to scream.

Someone grabs his shoulders, pulling him up, and Keith lashes out to get rid of the touch. The light is too much and he covers his eyes again, trying to shrug the hand from his shoulder one last time.

“It's the light“ — why does that sound like Coran? — “Galra favor low lights, and he's lived like that for a year. His eyes probably cannot adjust to the brightness.”

The light dims, and the touch on Keith's shoulder goes from trying to pull him up to rubbing his back.

“It's okay Keith, you're safe now.”

That's definitely Shiro. Keith sobs. This can't be happening. He's supposed to be going to Draizagal to see Zarkon's home, he's not supposed to be anywhere near Shiro.

“You're safe. You're home on the Castleship. You're safe.”

Unable to stop it, Keith cries.

He can't be here. He can't be back on the Castleship. He needs to see Zarkon. He should be with Zarkon. They were going to see the Galra homeworld and Keith was supposed to meet Haala's family.

So why is he on the Castleship?

“Hey.” Shiro forces Keith up from the ground and pulls him into a tight hug. “You're safe now.”

Keith's tail smacks against something in protest as he forces his eyes open, his vision blurred from the tears.

He's in his old room and Coran is there too, looking at Keith with heartbreak coloring his expression. Keith doesn't need it. He doesn't need any of it.

He just wants to go back to Zarkon. He tries to say as much, but no sound comes out of his throat.

“He's never going to hurt you again. You're safe here,” Shiro whispers into Keith's ear.

But Keith doesn't want to be here. He wants to be with Zarkon. He needs to know what happened, and he needs to see Zarkon.

He needs to know what happened to their bond. Why can't he feel it? He needs to feel it.

“You're safe,” Shiro repeats.

Keith wants to go back to Zarkon.

 

* * *

 

Keith chews his lip and stares at the wall. The bed is uncomfortable to lie on, but his head pounds too badly for him to try and sit. He'd rather lay on the floor than the bed, but Shiro and Coran had helped him up and set a tray of food down by his side, and moving had become too much of a chore once the panic he'd felt over being back in the Castleship had subsided. All Keith had been able to do was roll around until he was facing away from Coran and Shiro, and curl into a tight ball.

It had taken several long minutes, but eventually Shiro and Coran had left him alone. They had left the tray where it was, and every now and again Keith gets the urge to throw it across the room. He doesn't, though, because doing so would require him to move.

Instead of moving, he thinks.

He has no explanation for the strange state of the bond — or lack of it, to be exact. Even when Keith had snapped at Zarkon about the Black Lion and Zarkon had cut Keith off completely, Keith had been aware of Zarkon. He'd known, in his very core, that Zarkon was there, even if Keith couldn't feel him.

He had known the bond was there.

He'd known Zarkon was alive and well as surely as he knows the feel of the blade his father had given him before he'd left. He'd known the bond was there, and it had been an indisputable fact and as simple to accept as his need to breathe.

Now, he doesn't know. He has no sense of Zarkon and it terrifies him. He'd thought having Zarkon pull his walls up and cut Keith out was the worst thing that could happen, but now he knows better.

This is the worst thing that could ever have happened.

Keith would do anything to get back to how it was. Being cut off by Zarkon was pleasant compared to this current state. He'd do anything to just know that Zarkon exists.

When Shiro comes to pick up the still untouched tray, Keith pretends to be asleep. Shiro sighs and Keith thinks he might know he's pretending, but Shiro just takes the tray and leaves the room without saying a word.

Keith doesn't know if it's better or worse.

 

* * *

 

Keith considers the possibility that he's trapped in a nightmare, and he'll wake up any second and Zarkon will be there.

He'll be half asleep and a little exasperated, but when Keith tells him of his dream he'll hold him and push the warmth of his consciousness against Keith's and remind Keith that he will never abandon him.

Zarkon had promised he'd never leave Keith.

He can't have left Keith.

 

* * *

 

“You need to eat something,” Shiro says as he sits down on the edge of Keith's bed, his voice soft, like Keith might break if he speaks too loudly.

Keith frowns and focuses on his sleeve. Someone had taken his boots and jewelry, but he still has his clothes. It's all he has left of Zarkon.

“I brought you clothes too, if you want to take a shower,” Shiro adds. “Or, is there anything else I could get you? A milkshake? Lance found a cow — an actual Earth cow — so I can get you a real milkshake. Or —“

“I want my boots and jewelry,” Keith cuts in, his voice quiet.

Shiro is quiet for a few second. “Oh. Okay. Anything else?”

Keith doesn't reply. Shiro can't get him what he wants, so why would he ask for it?

Shiro waits for a minute before pushing himself off the bed with a sigh. He touches Keith's leg, but Keith curls away from him, and Shiro snatches his hand back like he's been burned.

“I'll get... the shoes and jewelry.” Shiro heads to the door just a little too fast, and Keith tells himself the wetness of his eyes aren’t tears.

 

* * *

 

Keith dozes off. When he wakes up, he's not sure how long he's slept.

He tries the bond again, but it's still not there. He doesn't know why, and he doesn't want to examine the possibilities too closely.

He prefers to believe Zarkon is just busy recovering from the attack, and as soon as he has everything under control, the bond will return to normal and he'll come for Keith.

 

* * *

 

Shiro resists the urge to kick the wall.

It's not like he'd expected Keith to be all happy and excited to be back the moment he woke up, but it's been four days and he hasn't even gotten out of bed, and he has said maybe a sentence or two at most.

“He has been traumatized. It will take time for him to adjust,” Kolivan says.

They're alone, and Keith's door down the hallway seems to taunt Shiro.

Keith hasn't even looked at him. Keith... doesn't seem like Keith anymore. It's not just the purple skin or the ears or the tail, — Haggar must have had fun with that one — but everything about him. His refusal to leave the Galra ship and his refusal to talk to Shiro or even look at him are not like Keith.

But who knows what Zarkon did to him in the privacy of his quarters. Who knows how badly he messed Keith's head up.

It will take time to fix the damage, and as soon as Shiro gets over his anger he'll be more than happy to spend the rest of his life helping Keith recover, if that's what it takes.

He just needs a minute to calm down again.

“I would like to talk to him. Perhaps it will be easier for him to interact with a Galra,” Kolivan continues and Shiro nods.

“I'll introduce you.”

Kolivan inclines his head. “That might be smart.”

Shiro takes a deep breath and straightens up. “Is tomorrow okay? He's resting now and I think we should let him.”

“That's acceptable. It will also give me a chance to retrieve something that might help your friend.” Kolivan bows minutely and leaves Shiro in the too quiet hallway.

Shiro wonders what Kolivan could possibly get that might help Keith, but he's ready to give anything a chance.

He sighs and picks up the heeled boots from the floor he'd dropped them on when Kolivan had called his name. He'd promised to get the shoes back to Keith, along with the jewelry, and he's not going to make a liar out of himself, even if he doesn't understand why Keith wants them back.

He sneaks into Keith's room and leaves the things by Keith's bed, hating himself just a little for being relieved that Keith is asleep.

 

* * *

 

Keith puts on his boots and jewelry, and rearranges his hair to the best of his abilities. He straightens his clothes when he has nothing else to do, and tells himself it's not because he wants to be presentable when Zarkon comes to get him. Zarkon isn't going to care how Keith looks, just that he'll be back where he belongs.

A knock on the door draws Keith's attention, but he doesn't tell the person behind it to come in. He'd rather be alone.

Unfortunately the door still opens and Shiro steps in, his expression cautious, though he does his best to not show it. To Keith's surprise he's accompanied by a rather imposing Galra whose uniform quickly crushes Keith's hope of him being part of the Empire's military.

“You look nice,” Shiro says, waving at Keith's clothes, but Keith knows he doesn't mean it.

Shiro has been looking at him like there's something wrong with him ever since he came back, his eyes focusing on either Keith's tail or ears a little too often, and his face had soured when Keith had said he needs a specific kind of brush for his hair. Not to mention the time he'd reached for Keith's hand, only to stop halfway at the sight of Keith's claws.

So no, Keith doesn't believe Shiro thinks he looks nice.

“This is Kolivan.” Shiro waves at the Galra by his side, and Keith's eyes linger on the bags he is carrying. “He wanted to talk to you.”

Keith flattens his ears at Kolivan. He remembers him. He remembers Kolivan picking him up and forcing him away from Zarkon. He'd drugged Keith or knocked him out, and he'd taken Keith away without his consent. “I don't want to talk to you.”

Kolivan steps into the room, unfazed by Keith's hostility. “We took the liberty of getting you clothing fitting your new physique, as well as better footwear.”

Keith's ears flatten further, and his tail thumps against the bed. “There's nothing wrong with my boots.”

Kolivan glances at Keith’s feet as he sets the bags down. “You cannot walk around in heels for the rest of your life.”

Keith can, but he doesn't bother telling that to Kolivan. “I don't know anything about you, so why would I listen to you?” He asks instead.

Kolivan turns to him and crosses his arms. “I am the Leader of the Blade of Marmora. You've met one of our agents, Thace, already. We assisted your friends in retrieving you from the Empire.”

Keith narrows his eyes.

Thace.

Thace who Keith had trusted and thought of as a friend. Thace who Zarkon had trusted with a position in his inner circle, with Keith's life. Thace, who had taken all that and thrown it back in their faces without hesitation.

“You had him spy on me,” Keith says, his voice dark and low.

“We did what was necessary to keep you safe,” Kolivan replies.

Keith bares his teeth. “I was safe! I didn't need your help.”

“I have no doubt that is how you were made to feel, but you were under Zarkon's direct influence for a year, and he's known to play mind games and abuse those he — “

Keith shoots to his feet. “You don't get to tell me what my experience was! You don't get to tell me how I should feel or think. You weren't there, you don't know _anything_ about what happened to me. You don't get to tell me what I went through, not when you hate him and you want me and everyone else to hate him too, and especially not when you don't even know him. _I'm_ the one who spent all that time getting to know him and building a relationship with him, so I'm the only one who gets to say what happened!”

The room falls dead silent. Keith's ears hum with the blood rushing through his veins, and he tries to calm his breathing.

Who does Kolivan think he is, telling Keith what he went through? Does he really think Keith doesn't know?

“Keith,” Shiro says, his cautious voice piercing the air.

Keith throws a glare at him, and Shiro flinches.

But Kolivan remains unaffected by Keith's wrath. “You should change your clothes. You have no reason to wear the insignia of the Imperial Family, as you aren't a part of it.”

“Zarkon's going to come for me, and I can promise you I won't stop him from killing you,” Keith snaps back, perhaps too harshly.

Shiro shifts, and the line of Kolivan's mouth tightens.

Keith frowns. “What?”

Shiro takes a step forward, keeping himself small and nonthreatening, almost like he fears what Keith will say or do next. His jaw clenches, like he's trying to keep his uneasiness from showing, he shifts his weight, and Keith knows him well enough to know that it puts him on edge.

Shiro licks his lips and doesn't quite meet Keith's eyes. “Zarkon's dead.”

For a moment, Keith can't process Shiro's words. They make no sense to him. Keith laughs, the sound of it too loud and hollow. “No he's not.”

Of course he's not. If Zarkon was dead, Keith would be too; Haggar had said so.

Shiro and Kolivan exchange glances, and Shiro sighs. “He was fighting the others. I don't know what happened, exactly, but they said he got distracted and they took the chance to take him out. Allura even gave him a shock of her magic. He didn't get up, and though the Empire's official line is that he's just injured, Kolivan has people deep undercover and they say it's not true.”

Keith shakes his head.

It's not true. Zarkon isn't dead. He can't be. They're bound together, and Keith would know if Zarkon was dead. He'd know.

“You're lying,” he says quietly.

Shiro doesn't say anything, but the look on his face tells Keith all he needs to know. Shiro does think Zarkon is dead and he's sorry Keith feels so strongly about it, but he's not sorry Zarkon is dead and he's not going to apologize for it.

“We can arrange housing for you in our base if you think you would be more comfortable around other Galra,” Kolivan says, but his words seem faraway. “You don't have to make a decision right away, but I suggest you think about it. Or — ”

“He's not dead,” Keith whispers.

“Keith — “

“He's not,” Keith snaps, and Shiro's jaw snaps shut.

“I understand it is hard to accept after all you've been through,” Kolivan says, and Keith glares at him. “But it is the truth. You will need to come to terms with it. I'm willing to assign one or two of my agents to stay with you, if you want to have your own as company here. And, as I said, you may always come to our base.”

Keith narrows his eyes, his tail flicking violently from side to side. Kolivan lowers his ears and bows minutely, tilting his head slightly to the left, placating though not quite submissive, and Keith's throat closes up.

He glances at Shiro, and his vision turns misty at the sight of him trying not to show how uncomfortable he is with Keith. His eyes keep flickering back to Keith's tail and his ears, and it hurts, almost more than being told Zarkon is dead.

It's worse in a way.

Keith blinks against the tears threatening to fall. He can't breathe. He can't —

He bolts for the door, pushing past Shiro despite the protests he barely hears, letting the door fall shut behind him.

As soon as he' in the corridor, he runs.

He can't breathe, he can barely see. He doesn't know where he's going and he doesn't care. He just has to get away. Away from Shiro and his lies. Away from Kolivan who had dared to take him from Zarkon and thinks he has any right to offer Keith comfort of any kind.

He doesn’t stop until he’s standing in front of the Red Lion, his breathing ragged as he focuses his thoughts on nothing but the Lion.

There’s nothing, not even a whisper of the bond they’re supposed to share, and Keith’s heart breaks. Red has abandoned him.

“I’m sorry.” Keith doesn't know what he’s apologizing for, but it feels like the right thing to say. He slumps on the ground, his eyes burning with the tears that refuse to fall.

This isn’t real. This can’t be real. He can’t have lost his connection to the Red Lion. He cannot have lost his Lion. They were so close, so good together. The had worked so hard for their bond and now Keith has lost it. Just like he's lost Zarkon.

Keith shakes his head and scrunches his eyes shut. He can’t have lost Zarkon. He promised he’d never leave Keith. He can't be gone.

Keith sobs. He can’t feel that soft, nigh undetectable hum in the back of his mind that's supposed to be his connection to Zarkon. There’s nothing there, and no matter how much Keith tries to force it back he can’t feel it. He feels hollow.

Keith punches the ground as hard as he can, not caring if he injures himself, and bites back an angry scream. He pushes himself off the ground and heads to the Black Lion. He doesn’t know why, but it feels like the place he needs to be.

The Black Lion is as immobile and unresponsive as the Red Lion had been, but Keith still glares at her accusingly. ”Did you let me pilot you just to bind me to him? Why would you do that?”

Keith gets no reply, but that doesn’t stop him from crossing his arms and glaring at the Lion for several long minutes.

The Black Lion belonged to Zarkon, at least she did thousands of years ago, and to Keith she feels like the only connection he has to Zarkon in the Castleship. If there's anything left of the bond they share, surely he’d feel it there, in front of the Lion that shared the bond with Zarkon that Keith had gotten tangled in.

“Please,” he whispers, but gets nothing in return.

He knows everyone thinks he should be happy to be rid of Zarkon, but he can’t do it. He misses Zarkon and he can’t change that. Keith sniffles and looks away from the Lion.

What good is he going to be if he can’t pilot a Lion? He’s not even sure if he can fight the Galra without feeling like it’s a betrayal of some kind. The Galra are his people and they gave him a home when he didn’t have one.

They were good to him.

Zarkon was good to him.

“Do you want to go for a ride?” Shiro’s cautious voice comes from behind Keith, and he swirls around to face him. Shiro’s smile falls when he sees the tears in Keith’s eyes, and Keith lets his bangs fall on his face as he hurries to rub his face on his sleeve to get the wetness off.

Shiro walks up to Keith and pulls him into a tight hug. Keith tenses and tries to pull away, but Shiro doesn’t let go. Keith fights his hold for a moment before he can’t anymore. He collapses against Shiro and clings to him to stay standing. He can’t stop the tears from falling, and no matter how hard he tries, he can’t draw enough air into his lungs.

“It’s okay,” Shiro assures him softly as he rubs Keith’s back. Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck and shakes his head.

Nothing is okay.

“You’re gonna be fine,” Shiro says, and Keith would believe him if he could. How can he be fine when Zarkon is gone and even Red has abandoned him?

He doesn’t want this reality.

Shiro holds Keith until his sobs subside and Keith pulls back. Shiro lets him go, though he stays close and keeps a steadying hand on Keith’s elbow. Keith rubs his burning face on his sleeve and doesn't meet Shiro's concerned eyes.

“So, no trip around the moon?” Shiro asks, his voice light though his smile wavers just for a second.

Keith starts to shake his head, but thinks better of it. Maybe he needs to be in the Lion to feel the bond. “I think I’d like to go for a ride.”

Shiro’s smile brightens, and he nods. “I’ll let the others know we’re going,” he says and squeezes Keith’s elbow before putting a little distance between them so that he can talk to the others in private.

Keith doesn’t care, his attention has already returned the Black Lion. He doesn’t know if this will help, but he needs a glimpse of the bond. He needs to know it's still there. He’s not sure what he’ll do if it’s gone forever.

“Ready?” Shiro asks when he returns to Keith’s side, and Keith takes a deep, steadying breath before nodding.

Shiro leads Keith into the Lion, and it’s familiar and alienating at the same time; something that was a part of Keith's life an eternity ago and he can't bring himself to feel connected to anymore. But Keith tries not to pay attention to that as he stands by Shiro's left while he sits down and gets everything ready for their departure. Instead, Keith focuses on his bond with Zarkon while Shiro takes them out of the Castleship and towards the nearby star system.

Shiro chats about menial things to fill the silence, but Keith tunes him out. He has to reach the bond. But even in the Lion, there’s nothing there for Keith to find.

He can’t feel the bond, not even the faintest trace of it.

Keith takes a sharp breath and his eyes snap to Shiro. “Who’s piloting Blue if Lance took Red?”

Shiro seems a little taken aback by the question, and the way he hesitates makes Keith think he won’t like the answer.

“Allura,” Shiro replies, and glaces at Keith before adding, “she’s really good.”

Keith nods and focuses on the view before him. The view of space stays similar no matter where he is, and he manages to find some comfort in it.

Maybe he's just too far from Zarkon to feel the bond. That has to be it.

“I’m sure Allura will give Blue back to Lance if you want to pilot Red,” Shiro says hastily.

Keith shakes his head. “I’m sure you’re a great team.”

Shiro is quiet for a long minute, his expression contemplative as he chews his lip. Keith hopes he decides not to voice whatever it is he’s thinking.

“You’re still an important part of the team, nothing’s ever going to change that,” Shiro says eventually. Keith closes his eyes for a second and takes a deep breath.

“I don’t want to pilot anything right now. I just want to rest,” he says, making sure his voice stays calm.

Shiro nods. “I get it. Take as much time as you need, and when you’re ready there’s a place for you doing whatever you want to do. We’re all here for you.”

Keith makes a noise that sounds like acknowledgment, but he doesn’t say anything. Shiro keeps glancing at him from the corner of his eye, and though Keith can tell he wants to speak he stays quiet. Keith almost thanks him for it.

They land on a large asteroid circling a gas giant, and Shiro sighs as he sumps in his seat. Keith sits on the floor by Shiro’s chair, but it reminds him too much of sitting by Zarkon’s feet so he has to get up. Shiro looks at him with a questioning frown on his face, but Keith pretends he doesn’t see it.

The least uncomfortable spot to sit Keith finds is at the front of the cockpit, a little to Shiro’s right, pressed against the control panel with his knees drawn up to his chin. Shiro leans his elbows on his knees and interlaces his fingers loosely, and after a minute of studying Keith with concerned eyes he drops his gaze to the floor.

They stay quiet for a long time, and slowly the silence turns from uncomfortable to tolerable. Keith wonders when it became so hard for him to be around Shiro of all people. He used to think nothing could ever come between them, that nothing could ever break the team they were, but now he’s not so sure.

Everything is so strange and foreign.

“Did you find my bayard?” Keith asks.

“Yeah. Lance has it,” Shiro replies.

Keith nods, and they lapse into another long stretch of silence.

Keith supposes it’s only right that he’s lost his bayard as well as his Lion. He only hopes Lance is treating Red well. He could ask about it, but that wound is still too fresh and he needs a little more time to come to terms with Red having a new pilot.

He wishes he had more time with Zarkon. He wishes he was saved sooner. It leaves him numb in a way he’s never been.

“I think I’d like to go rest now,” Keith says, and though Shiro tries to hide his sadness at Keith’s words Keith sees it.

“Okay,” Shiro agrees quietly.

They don’t speak on the way back to the Castleship, and once they’re there, Keith bolts back to the relative safety of his room without glancing back at Shiro.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a [tumblr](http://saremina.tumblr.com) where you can reach me as well, and I'll be sharing most of any update news etc about this fic there. All stuff related to this series is conveniently tagged as shelter verse btw :)
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	2. Chapter 2

Keith sighs and pushes himself off the bed.

He hates being back in the Castleship. He hates not having his friends around, he hates his own inability to sleep alone, without Zarkon there by his side, and most of all, he hates not having the bond.

Keith sighs again and heads to the door. He's starving; Coran usually brings him food like clockwork, but not this evening. Maybe there's something more important going on and he'd forgotten about Keith, or the task is just something he can't be bothered with anymore.

Walking around the Castleship makes Keith uncomfortable in a way he hasn't been in many places. He doesn't belong there anymore, the white of the hallways is foreign to him, the air is lighter than his lungs are used to, and the lights are too bright. He should be with the Galra.

Maybe he should take Kolivan up on his offer to house him at the Blade of Marmora base, even if the idea of living so close to Galra who want to overthrow Zarkon makes his skin crawl. They're Zarkon's people, they shouldn't be trying to kill him and destroy the Empire that holds their society together.

Keith heads (sneaks, really) to the kitchen. He slows down as he nears the door, surprised and a little dreadful at the sounds of laughter and chatter coming through the door. He stops, wondering if the food is worth it. His stomach grumbles and he sighs, his ears drooping in defeat. Keith is hungry and he tells himself he doesn't have to stay there with the other, he can just fill a plate and leave.

All sound dies in the kitchen when Keith opens the door, and his ears turn back and his tail twitches in response. A minute frown appears on Allura's brow and the corners of her mouth tilt down, and Keith's ears flatten further, almost like they're trying to melt into Keith's skull and disappear.

Pidge and Lance stare at him like he's not only turned Galra, but also grown another head, a mix of fascination and what Keith doesn't want to think of as repulsion on their faces. Hunk seems more interested in his plate, but he keeps stealing glances at Keith, especially his tail.

Shiro smiles, tense and a little hopeful, and Coran mirrors his expression.

Keith makes his way across the floor and grabs a plate from the shelf, but his stomach is turning and there's a heavy lump in his throat and he thinks he might throw up if he eats anything, so he puts the plate back, the sound of it clashing against the other plates rings loud and piercing in the air.

Keith takes a mug and fills it with warm water before hurrying out of the door.

 

* * *

 

Keith sits on the bed, his knees pulled to his chin and his tail wrapped around his legs thumping softly against the covers every now and again. He'd left the glass by the bedside without touching it.

It takes almost an hour, but eventually there’s a familiar knock on the door, followed by Coran stepping into the room with a tray. “I'm terribly sorry for not bringing your food earlier. Hunk and I were trying out new recipes and we got caught up.”

Keith doesn't point out that they had all seemed pretty uncaught up in anything but their own fun.

“So. Here is what we came up with.” Coran sets the tray down, and there's a smell of reheated food to it. Keith supposes he should be glad they had bothered to do that much.

Not that he's hungry anymore.

Keith shuffles away from the tray Coran sets down on the bed and picks at the hem of his coat. He expects Coran to leave, but instead he sits down on the bed with that annoyingly sympathetic and patient look on his face. Keith's ears flatten and his tail thumps against the bed a little harder.

“You should shower and put something else on.” Coran cocks his head to get a better look at Keith's face. “And I suppose I could wash your clothes if you want to wear them again later.”

Keith shakes his head and curls in on himself. “Zarkon gave them to me.”

The line of Coran's mouth hardens for a second before he sighs and looks around the room. “A wash won't destroy them.”

Keith knows it, but he doesn't want to give the clothes to Coran. And —

“He did my hair.”

It looks bad, Keith knows it, but he can't undo the chain and the pins: it would feel like a betrayal. Keith has tried to keep his hair looking even halfway decent, but he hasn't been really able to do that and his hair looks like a mess, its typical shine dulled due to a lack of proper washing. But Keith can't undo his hair.

“Tell me something.” Coran turns to Keith, his expression soft yet serious. “What would Zarkon think if he saw you like this?”

Keith's eyes sting and he looks away.

“The Zarkon I once knew would be disappointed in you,” Coran continues, “he would have wanted you to take care of yourself. He would have wanted you to act like a proper Galra and not give up.”

Keith blinks against the tears. He knows Coran is right. He knows it, but that doesn't mean he likes it.

“Keith?”

Keith frowns at Coran, his ears flat against his head and his tail thumping angrily against the bed.

“You are not respecting his memory by not taking care of yourself.” Coran looks so sincere Keith doesn't have the heart to tell him Zarkon isn't dead. That there is no way Zarkon is dead if Keith is still alive.

Still, maybe Keith should take better care of himself and shower; that way he'll be in better shape to get back to Zarkon when the time comes. But the idea of undoing his hair and letting Coran wash his clothes hurts.

Keith sniffles and shrugs.

Coran smiles. “Do you want to eat, or should we get you cleaned up?”

“I'm not hungry,” Keith mutters.

“Then lets shower.” Coran springs to his feet and claps his hands. “A good shower will ease your mind and make everything a little brighter.”

Keith doesn't believe it, but he keeps that to himself even as he climbs off the bed. It won't do him any good to actually say he's not doing any of this because Coran says it will do him good or because Zarkon would want him to — though the latter is a far more compelling reason — but because he needs to get a grip and fix his act if he ever wants to get back to Zarkon.

Shedding his coat is the most painful thing Keith has done in a long time, and he bites back the urge to cry swelling inside him and threatening to choke him if he keeps it inside for much longer. He gives the coat to Coran, and takes off his armlet and earrings.

The hair is the hardest part. Zarkon had done it up and undoing it feels wrong. He'd chatted about his day and Keith hadn't even listened to him properly; he'd been too focused on his own thoughts, and then he'd cut Zarkon off just to tell him he loved him.

And he does love him. Maybe more than he's ever loved anyone, save for Shiro.

No, that's not right. He loves Zarkon _differently_ than he loves Shiro, but not less. Just differently.

He puts the chain form his hair on the bed next to the other jewelry, swallowing down a sob as he does so. He takes off the pins last, and his hair falls on his face in tangled clumps. At least Coran doesn't say anything.

Keith takes a shuddering breath before pushing his hair from his face and taking his shirt off. He folds it slowly and hands it to Coran, pretending the wetness of his eyes isn’t tears about to fall.

He stands there, trying to keep himself together for a long moment, and Coran lets him take all the time he needs without saying or doing anything to hurry Keith along. Keith can't decide if he's grateful for it, or mad at Coran for not telling him to hurry up.

He should take his boots off next.

Keith glances back at the bed, considering sitting down to undo the latches and laces, and sniffles.

The door opens at the same moment as Keith stars towards the bed, and Shiro barges in with a bowl in his hands. “Hunk made dessert and I thought...”

Shiro trails off, his eyes lingering on the scar on Keith's stomach a little too long before focusing on the faded bruises Zarkon had sucked on Keith's chest and neck, and the bite mark that Zarkon had left on Keith's shoulder. It had bled and Keith had complained at the time, but he had picked at it until it had scarred, and Zarkon had smiled and shaken his head at Keith.

Shiro narrows his eyes and glares at the bite mark. “I thought you'd want dessert,” he mutters and cants the bowl a little.

Keith wraps his arms around his middle and drops his chin to his chest to get his hair to fall around his face again.

“I'll be washing Keith's clothes while he showers,” Coran says cheerily to fill the silence.

Keith flinches when Shiro sets the bowl down on the table with a hard clank.

“That's nice.” Shiro doesn't sound very sincere. “A shower will be good for you.” His voice grows softer, but Keith doesn't look up.

Shiro steps towards Keith, a minute scowl on his face. Keith's ears tilt back and his tail curls around his own leg in response. “You know,” Shiro starts and stops in front of Keith and motions at his neck. “The healing pods could probably get rid of those if you — “

Keith's eyes snap to Shiro, his ears flattening further and his tail unfurling to swing from side to side as Keith bares his teeth at Shiro, a low growl escaping his throat.

Shiro balks and stumbles back. The shock and hurt on his face does little to alleviate Keith's anger.

“Perhaps it would be best if Keith and I continue this alone,” Coran says, his concerned eyes darting between Keith and Shiro.

Shiro nods, his guarded gaze still fixed on Keith. “Yeah. I need to go look at, um, some charts anyways.”

He leaves the room with one last glance at Keith, and Keith scowls at him until he disappears through the door.

He takes the rest of his clothes off a little faster and throws them at Coran until he's standing there naked, his ears flat and his tail swinging angrily.

Coran sets the clothes down and grabs Keith a robe from the closet. “You mustn't be too hard on Shiro. He's just trying to help, and he doesn't know the Galra customs and culture. He meant no harm.”

“I know,” Keith mutters. “I just... he wants me to forget Zarkon, and I can't.”

Coran tilts his head. “He did horrible things to you.”

“No he didn't. I was happy with him,” Keith replies, his voice barely above a whisper.

Coran frowns, but doesn't say anything about it. “How about that shower?”

Keith inclines his head and pads to the door, not really caring if Coran follows him out of the room or not.

 

* * *

 

“I don't know what to do,” Shiro sighs and rubs his face. “He acts like Zarkon was nothing but nice to him.”

“Maybe he was,” Allura says, her voice dark. “Zarkon could be a rather... charismatic and alluring person when he wanted to be.”

Shiro sighs again, heavier this time. “I just don't know what to do. I get that he's been traumatized and that Zarkon spent a year messing with his head, but he's so... _different._ I barely recognize him.”

“Give him time,” Allura says. “We’ve rescued him, that was arguably the easy part. Now we must help him out of Zarkon's shadow.”

Shiro stares at the ground. “I know. I just keep thinking that if we'd gotten to him sooner, he wouldn't have had to suffer so much. I feel like I've failed him.”

Allura's eyes turn sympathetic. “You saved him.”

Shiro shakes his head. “He didn't want to come back. He told me so back at the quintessence facility and I didn't listen. What if he'll never be able to learn to live with us again? What if bringing him back was the wrong thing to do?”

“It wasn't, not when the alternative was leaving him with Zarkon. He would have toyed with Keith until he grew tired of him, and then he would've discarded him in some dark cell and left him to rot, or he would have tortured him, or have that witch of his to do as she pleased with him.” Allura's voice holds nothing but certainty, and it's nearly impossible for Shiro to not believe her.

Shiro crosses his arms. “Convincing him of that won't be easy.”

“We'll do it,” Allura replies, sounding sure of herself. “But for now, lets weaken the Empire even more, shall we?”

Shiro nods and stands straighter. “Lets look at the maps again.”

They can't do anything about Keith at the moment, but they can keep the Galra from recovering from the loss of Zarkon, and Shiro will do everything in his power to keep them disorganized and unable to get back on their feet.

They're lucky Thace's cover hadn't been blown, as he has proven himself an invaluable asset inside the Empire, being the highest ranking member the Blade has in the Galra Military. He had recently provided Voltron and their new Coalition with details on the Empire's current internal power structure, and Shiro, Allura, and Kolivan have worked hard with the Rebellion to figure out where they should strike first.

“The Galra have always relied on strong leadership to keep them together,” Allura had said at a large meeting they had held with their allies after Zarkon had fallen. "They do not have that now, which causes them to fight among themselves, and weakens them considerably. This is our best chance to drive the Empire past the point from which they can regain their previous power.”

Shiro scowls as he looks at the map that has the vague outlines of the current ever changing factions of the Galra. “This is going to get ugly.”

Allura nods. “I know, but it must be done.”

Shiro has no argument to that.

 

* * *

 

Keith hates his new clothes. The fabric is too rough against his skin and they don't fit in the same way the clothes Zarkon had bought him had fit. He supposes his discomfort shouldn't have come as a surprise. Zarkon had gotten his clothes tailored, and the Blade had most likely just stopped to shop at the local mall or something similar.

Keith rolls over to his other side, facing the wall with a frown on his face as he chews his lip. Zarkon still hasn't come for him, and the bond remains dead. It's disconcerting, and the only explanation Keith has for it is that Zarkon was injured — perhaps severely — during his fight with the others. Or maybe there's just too much distance between them — the bond had fractured, after all. Who knows how it works now, if it does at all.

The soft knock on the door drags Keith from his musings, but he doesn't respond, hoping for whoever is behind the door to take the hint and leave him alone.

Unsurprisingly, Keith has no such luck, and soon Shiro opens the door and steps through it, clearing his throat hesitantly. Keith considers pretending to be asleep, but he's done that four times by now and he knows Shiro won't be fooled: the way his tail thumps against the bed gives him away. Instead, Keith throws a glare over his shoulder before settling better on the uncomfortable bed.

“I brought you a milkshake,” Shiro says, his voice betraying his cautiousness even though he tries to hide it. “Lance tried to teach Allura and Coran how to milk an Earth cow and...”

Shiro falls silent, and after a moment he sighs and goes to sit by Keith's feet. “You know, this isn't easy on us either. We're trying, but we don't know how to help you.”

“I don't need help,” Keith replies. He groans before pushing himself up and sitting by Shiro's side, keeping more distance between them than usual.

Shiro offers him the milkshake, and Keith takes it, only to set it on the ground without even properly looking at it.

“You could come train with us today?” Shiro sounds cautiously hopeful, but he remains reserved.

Keith shakes his head. “I don't think that's a good idea.”

Shiro shifts. “Why not?”

“Because you probably killed someone who considered me his brother and was going to introduce me to his family, and you took me away from Zarkon and all of my friends.” Keith's ears flatten and he stops to take a deep breath.

“We're your friends too,” Shiro says quietly.

Keith snorts. “Whatever.”

“Hey! We risked our lives to save you. Be mad all you want, but don't think we don't care about you.” Shiro scowls at Keith and Keith looks away. “Keith... I just think it'd be good for you to spend some time with us.”

“I can't,” Keith sighs, his shoulders slumping. “And I don't want to.”

“Why not?”

“Because you took me away from Zarkon!” Keith bolts to his feet and strides across the room, fighting back the urge to punch the wall.

“He abused and manipulated you,” Shiro says in that same calm yet stern voice he'd used on Keith back in the Garrison when Keith had gotten into trouble. “I know you can't see it yet but that's the truth. He wasn't your friend. He —“

“I love him! And you took me away from him.” Keith stares at Shiro with wide, furious eyes, his breath coming out in sharp, heavy puffs, his ears flat against his head and his tail swinging furiously from side to side.

Shiro stares at Keith, his equally wide eyes horrified, shocked, and — Keith tries really hard not to call it such — almost repulsed.

Keith spreads his arms, trying to control his anger a little better. “I get that you don't understand it. And I'm not saying that Zarkon can't be a massive dick when he wants to be, but I got to know him and I love him, and I want to go back to him. I want to be with him. I was happy; I could be myself and no one judged me for it.”

“You can be yourself here,” Shiro insists, but his voice lacks conviction. His eyes keep flicking to Keith's tail even though he tries to fight it.

Keith shakes his head. “No, I can't. You know I can't. I've never been allowed to be myself. Do you know what it was like? To finally be able to not worry that I'm gonna do or say the wrong thing? To not be so fucking cautious all the time? Those people there? They accepted me as I am, not as what they thought I should be, or the front I have to put up for everyone, but as _me._ And Zarkon...”

Keith runs the back of his hand across his face, wiping away the tears from his eyes. He wants to go back to Zarkon. He needs to feel the warmth of his touch and the gentle buzz of the bond. He needs Zarkon there to hold him and tell him he's perfect just the way he is.

A sob escapes Keith's lips and he lets his hair fall on his face. “And you all keep looking at me like I'm wrong somehow. I can't change the way I look and I wish you'd stop staring at me. I'm not — I'm not some freak for you to stare at! I'm not... I'm — “

“It's okay.” Shiro touches Keith's arm and Keith blinks through the tears in his eyes. He hadn't even realized Shiro moved. “It's okay. No one thinks you're a freak. And I'll tell the others to not stare if that makes you feel better.”

He rubs Keith's arm, but Keith can't stop crying. Shiro steps closer to him. “Hey, everything is going to be fine. And you know what?” Shiro meets Keith's eyes and digs a Galran pocket pad from his pocket. “The reason I stare at you is that I'm trying to figure out what all of this means.” He waves at Keith's ears and tail. “Kolivan gave me this guide to Galran body language. Apparently it's an important part of communication among them — you — and I thought it'd be good if I understood it.”

Keith sniffles, a wavering smile grazing his lips.

Shiro's answering smile is reassuring and more easy than Keith's. “I can stop if it makes you uncomfortable.”

Keith nods and lets Shiro pull him into a hug. “I promise you, everything will be fine,” Shiro says as he wraps his arms around Keith.

Keith digs his claws into the back of Shiro's clothes and clings to him. Shiro isn't Zarkon, but he's something. Keith lets Shiro guide him back to the bed and sit him down, and he lets Shiro hold him while he cries.

It helps, just a little, and once Keith calms down Shiro stops rubbing his back and muttering platitudes at him as he picks up the milkshake. “You want this?”

Keith doesn't, but he humors Shiro by taking a sip. He doesn't have the energy to pick another fight at the moment.

“Do you want me to stay?” Shiro asks once Keith has more or less finished the milkshake.

“No. I want to rest,” Keith replies.

Shiro nods and takes the cup from Keith, and heads to the door. He stops and turns to Keith once he reaches it, a hopeful smile on his lips. “It's good to have you back.”

Keith curls on the bed, his back turned to Shiro, and doesn't reply.

 

* * *

 

“How is he?” Hunk asks the second Shiro enters the kitchen.

Shiro discards the cup on a table and sighs. “Apparently, unlike us, the Galra accepted him as he is and we've killed someone he considers his brother, and” — Shiro's jaw clenches and he fights back the urge to slam his fist onto the counter — “he says he's in love with Zarkon and that he wants to go back to him.”

The silence that falls is heavy and shocked; no one even moves.

“And he wants us to stop staring at him,” Shiro adds and crosses his arms.

“That's easier said than done,” Lance grumbles.

“Yeah,” Pidge says. “Those ears and tail are really distracting.”

“Well try, alright? We're supposed to be helping him, not proving to him that Zarkon was right.” Shiro glares at them both, and they look chastised enough for Shiro's liking.

“If Keith thinks he loves Zarkon, rehabilitating him is going to be a lot harder,” Coran says. “We have to be careful. If Zarkon held that much power over him, we could run the risk of pushing him fully to the Empire's side.”

Shiro nods. “Everyone needs to make an effort.”

The others agree, albeit grudgingly, but it's enough for Shiro. Getting Keith out from under Zarkon's influence needs to be a priority.

“Do we have anything new on the border situation?” Shiro asks, hoping the change in subject will put everyone in a better mood.

Allura shakes her head. “Nothing yet. We're still waiting to hear from the rebellion. They should be getting back to us in a varga at the latest.”

Shiro nods and crosses his arms. He's about to speak up when Coran raises his hand and stands as tall as he can. “I have an idea that might help us get more support for our cause and let the universe know that the Empire is falling.”

The others share a confused if curious glance.

“Go on,” Shiro says and shrugs.

Coran grins, and Shiro already regrets asking him what he has in mind. “We need to put on a show!”

Shiro's face falls, and everyone else balks as well. Coran crosses his arms behind his back, proud of himself for his idea, and Shiro has no clue how to get him to let go of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next update coming sometime next week.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I accidentally saved this as a draft few hours ago and almost forgot to post this. Oops. Is it a sign of tiredness or me being too busy? Who knows, not me.

Shiro hurries down the hallway towards Keith's room. He's glad to be done with the shows Coran had insisted on and the prancing in front of an audience that came with them, at least for a now. But — no matter how much Shiro hates it — the performances help; they gained support and allies faster than they have in months.

Shiro knocks on Keith's door and waits for the invitation to step in, but one never comes. Sometimes Shiro walks away and lets Keith be alone like he wants to be, sometimes he ignores it and reminds himself that Keith isn't in a good place, and opens the door.

This is one of the times Shiro ignores the lack of an answer and enters Keith's room. Unsurprisingly, Keith lays curled on the bed with his back to Shiro, his tail twitching in annoyance betraying he's aware of Shiro's presence. His hair — so long and nothing like Keith — is undone and tangled. If Shiro had the guts for it he'd suggest Keith cut it off.

“Hi,” Shiro says, for the lack of anything else to say, as he walks up to the bed and sits down. He's discovered that being blunt and straightforward is the best approach he can take with Keith, and no matter how much Shiro feels like he shouldn't push Keith, that just doesn't work. Of course it doesn't; this is Keith, and Keith has never been one to respond well to being treated like he's fragile.

“I got something I want you to see,” Shiro continues as if everything is perfectly normal. He waits while Keith decides if he wants to sit up or not. When Keith grudgingly pushes himself up Shiro makes room for him, doing his best to respect Keith's new need for space.

It's not unsurprising, considering he'd been stuck with Zarkon for so long; who knows how much unwanted touches Keith has had to endure.

Shiro finds the recording of one of their performances on the nearly transparent pad Coran had given him, and hands it to Keith and hits play. He watches Keith's face, the smile fading from his lips as Keith's ears flatten like those of an angry cat as the frown on his face deepens and his jaw clenches.

As soon as the recording ends, Keith tosses the pad back to Shiro without meeting his eyes.

Shiro looks down at the pad, not understanding what went wrong this time. “I thought you'd like seeing it.”

He'd really thought Keith would enjoy seeing the team more or less make fools of themselves, or just enjoy the fun the others had while performing.

Keith laughs, the sound of it bitter and angry. “Yeah, I'm gonna like seeing you make fun about killing my people and someone I love. Good thinking.”

Shiro flinches. He hadn't considered that. “We're just trying to get more people to join the Coalition and show everyone that they don't have to be scared of the Empire.”

Keith glares at him with cold eyes. “It's called war propaganda.”

“No, it's not,” Shiro protests. “It's... we're helping people. We're showing them they don't have to be afraid anymore, and that we can bring the Empire down.”

Keith stares at Shiro, his eyes wide and incredulous. “You're so full of shit.”

Shiro blinks, not knowing how he's supposed to respond to that. Keith has never talked to him like this before. “The Empire needs to be brought down, we're just doing what we can to make that happen.”

Keith springs to his feet, his tail almost hitting Shiro as it jerks from side to side in angry motions. “Would you all stop hiding behind your sense of righteousness? Just stop pretending you've got some moral high ground. You haven't even thought this whole thing through.”

Shiro fights back the simmering anger inside him, reminding himself that Keith has been through a horrific trauma and Shiro can't hold what he says against him or let Keith lashing out affect him.

Shiro takes a deep breath and counts to ten before he meets Keith's furious eyes with as calm a demeanor as he can muster. “I understand you're upset, but we're doing what's best for the universe.”

“The best for the universe, huh?” Keith snorts and shakes his head. “You know, I saw people terrified of Voltron coming and driving the Galra away. They were worried of losing their protection and their trade partners and their livelihood. Is what you're doing best for those people? How about the people who have lived under Galra rule for so long they don't even know _how_ to govern themselves anymore, let alone how to protect themselves from anyone who might want to hurt them?”

Shiro opens his mouth, but no words come out. Keith takes it as an invitation to continue and takes a step towards him.

“And what about the Galra themselves? Assuming they don't start a civil war and do far more damage to the universe than they ever have, what are you going to do to them after the Empire's fallen? Are you going to imprison them all, including the civilians? Force them into labor camps or something? Maybe just kill us all since we're so _fucking_ dangerous?” Keith looks away, shaking from anger.

Shiro knows he should say something, but he can't. He can barely draw in a breath.

“You're creating a power vacuum the likes of which the universe has never seen before, and you're not thinking beyond bringing the Empire down. You're not thinking about the people who will need protection and help governing themselves, or what you're doing to the Galra themselves.” Keith casts his saddened eyes to Shiro. “What are you gonna do after the Empire falls? Put Allura on the throne? The Galra would never follow her. And who's protecting the planets you've liberated? Who's making sure they can survive without the Galra and their trade deals and the jobs they created, and everything else they brought to those people?”

Shiro swallows down the lump of bitterness in his throat. As much as he hates it, he can't help but see Keith's point of view and the hint of truth in his words. They haven't really stopped to consider every little thing; they haven't had the time for that. The idea of the Galra bringing anything good to the universe is strange and unpleasant, but hadn't Shiro himself gone to a mall in Galra ruled territory, ran under Galra law, and filled with happy, normal people just living their lives?

Keith's expression shifts and his ears twitch, but Shiro doesn't know what it means.

“Look,” Shiro starts and stands up. “You're upset so I think it's best we continue this particular conversation after you've calmed down a bit. I'm not mad at you, but I don't want to fight with you over this either.”

Keith crosses his arms and shrugs, looking anywhere but towards Shiro.

Shiro waits, but Keith refuses to meet his eyes. Eventually Shiro sighs and heads to the door. “Let me know if you need anything,” he says before stepping out of the room and leaving Keith alone.

 

* * *

 

Keith has discovered that his daily rhythm varies from that of everyone else: he goes to sleep in the early hours of the morning and wakes up around noon, and try as Coran and Shiro might to get him to adapt, Keith isn't shifting back into the Castle's rhythm.

That's why Keith makes his way through the ship in the middle of the night as quietly as he can, trusting everyone else to be asleep by then. He reaches the kitchen and the lights turn on when he enters the empty space. Someone has left cookies on a plate on the counter, and Keith snatches one as he makes his way to the cabinets to see what he could have for a late night snack.

He finds the ingredients for a simple sandwich — or what constitutes for a sandwich in space — and he suspects Hunk is the one who made the bread since it’s definitely homemade, and to Keith it looks like Earth bread.

Keith makes a sandwich, eats it, and after a moment of hesitation he makes another one. He hadn't pulled out many ingredients, just the stuff that tastes like salted cheese more than butter and some kind of sliced meat. It's a little too salty for his tastes now that his taste buds are more Galran, but it's not bad, and Keith is hungry enough not to care about the saltiness.

Keith's ears perk at the sound of heavy footsteps approaching the kitchen seconds before the doors open and an exhausted Hunk steps through them. Hunk starts when his eyes land on Keith, and Keith's shoulders stiffen and he lets his hair fall over his face; he's taken up a habit of not tying it up since letting it hide his face has proven to be an excellent way of keeping the others at bay.

Hunk makes his way to the counter and walks around it, and Keith focuses pointedly on the sandwich that suddenly tastes like ash.

“You know,” Hunk starts, hesitant and trying a little too hard to be causal. “I could make you something better to eat if you're hungry.”

Keith nibbles his sandwich and ignores Hunk. He hates the way everyone walks on eggshells around him, and he hates that they think he can't take care of himself. If he wanted something else to eat he would've made something else to eat, he doesn’t need Hunk to cook for him.

Hunk waits for Keith to answer for a few moments longer before sighing and going on about getting himself a snack. Keith does his best to pretend Hunk’s not there as he finishes his own sandwich. He'd have a third one if he dared, but with Hunk there he doesn't feel like eating much anymore.

The plate that clatters next to his elbow catches him by surprise, and Keith glances at Hunk with confused eyes.

Hunk shrugs and gets back to chopping bright vegetables into cubes. “Everyone tries out my new stuff. You've been gone for a year so it's your turn, so eat up and tell me if it's good.”

Keith blinks, confused and surprised, but after a moment he pulls the plate closer. It's just salad and another sandwich, but this one has everything from meat to lettuce to vegetables on it, and Keith's mouth waters at the mere sight of it. Keith picks a yellow vegetable cube off the salad pile and nibbles at it.

“Pidge and I are trying to make sense of this ghost ship we found,” Hunk says as he studies the bluish green lettuce. “It's a regular Galra scout ship that we found drifting in space. Nothing works and there's no signs that anyone was ever there. There’s no damage on the ship itself so we have nothing to go with yet.”

Keith listens to him go on about the experiments they've ran on the ship, and though he doesn't acknowledge Hunk, hearing him talk about such normal things eases his mind.

It doesn't take long for the sound of Pidge's grumbling and feet dragging across the hallway to carry to Keith's ears. Moments later she steps into the kitchen, her shoulders slumped and her hair a mess. “I need foo — oh.”

She stills when she sees Keith, but she recovers quickly and comes to sit by his side.

“I was just telling Keith about our ghost ship,” Hunk says, and Pidge's eyes brighten.

“It's really cool.” she focuses her attention on Keith, full of energy all of the sudden. “We can't explain why nothing is working or why the ship was left abandoned drifting in space.”

Keith spares her a glance to let her know he's listening before focusing on nibbling his sandwich again. She repeats the same things Hunk has already told Keith, but he doesn't mind. Once she's done she waits for Keith to say something, but he remains silent. Eventually Pidge sighs and pulls a small sphere that seems to be filled with dark blue, near black oil. There are three, small silver nubs that could be connected with a triangle on its sides.

“I thought you might figure this out,” she says to Hunk, who takes the sphere and frowns at it.

“Where was it?” Hunk asks without taking his eyes off the sphere.

Pidge steals a handful of fruit from a bowl and shrugs. “It was on the floor of the ship.”

“It's a part of an ion field navigator,” Keith says quietly, half hoping Pidge and Hunk miss his words.

Of course they don't. They turn to him, surprised and curious, and they share a glance before giving Keith their full attention.

“How do you know that?” Pidge asks.

Keith tears a piece of meat off of the slice on his sandwich and focuses on nothing but it. “I read a book about ships.”

Hunk raises an eyebrow as he hands Pidge her plate of fruit salad. “You read a book.”

Keith shrugs, ignoring the way his tail twitches. “Zarkon let me use the library.”

Pidge and Hunk tense and they share an uncomfortable glance before Pidge clears his throat. “That's nice.”

“So,” Hunk starts and glances at Pidge before waving the sphere gently. “Can you tell us anything else about this?”

Keith could, but he's not sure he wants to.

“The Galra have libraries?” Pidge asks, and it's something Keith would rather deal with.

“Yeah, they have mostly electronic books on board the ships, but they had some actual books too. Zarkon said they have a huge library on... on their planet.” Keith shoves a piece of bread into his mouth and stares at the counter. “I downloaded a few manuals I could listen to out of curiosity.”

Pidge and Hunk share a silent conversation they seem to hold with just their eyes before Hunk turns to smile at Keith. “Wanna help us solve a mystery?”

Keith wants to say no, but he can't sleep well without Zarkon and he's buzzing with nervous energy. So he shrugs, and after they're done eating he lets Pidge and Hunk drag him to the hangar where the Galra ship is.

“Opinion?” Hunk asks after as Keith frowns at the small scout ship.

Keith tilts his head and shoves his hands into his pockets. “It looks fine.”

“Yeah,” Pidge agrees, “but nothing works. And we've tried everything to fix it.”

Keith doesn't know what he's supposed to do, but it's something to occupy his mind with and maybe tire him out, so he ignores what Pidge and Hunk are saying and climbs into the ship. Hunk and Pidge scramble in after him, causing the space to become cramped and uncomfortable, but Keith doesn't comment on it.

“If we could get my laptop hooked to the systems and get at least a little power on the ship I could download the files stored in the computers and run a translator through them,” Pidge says. “Maybe we could find out what happened that way.”

Keith ignores her in favor of studying the controls before him. “Give me the sphere,” he orders, and after a second Hunk hands it to him.

Keith attaches the navigator where it belongs: in the mess of wires and cables under the control panels. It doesn't make the power return to the ship, but at least Keith did something. He decides to continue to do something, and crouches on the floor and looks under the controls. Since Hunk and Pidge have pried the panel protecting the mechanics under it off and they have set up lights, Keith can take a good look at everything.

“See anything interesting?” Hunk asks after a minute. Keith supposes he could tell Hunk he's rewired a few things wrong, but instead he quietly fixes the mistakes, his ears focused on every faint sound the ship makes.

He doesn't hear anything, not even the lightest of hums or a single beep. Keith frowns and scoots out from under the control panel. “Can you open the cell reserve for me?”

Hunk and Pidge stare at him, identical confused expressions on their faces.

Keith sighs. “The front panel on the bottom left of the ship? On the outside? I need to see the cell reserves.”

Hunk glances at Pidge who shrugs. They get out of the ship and circle it to find the panel Keith was talking about.

“I can't see it,” Pidge says as she narrows her eyes at the ship and scrutinizes the hull.

Keith steps past her and taps his claws on the hull until he finds the spot that sounds just a little bit different, and knocks his knuckle on it. “Here.”

Hunk nods, determined and excited, and gets to work. It takes him a few minutes, but he gets the hidden panel open without damaging the ship itself too much.

Keith pushes past him and Pidge before they can peer into the dark hole. Keith tries to remember what he'd read about the ships, but soon realizes he doesn't have to do that. The cells that hold the ships quintessence fuel are completely drained, explaining why nothing on the ship works.

Keith sighs and turns to face Hunk and Pidge. “You wouldn't happen to have any refined quintessence lying around?”

They both shake their heads. “Nope,” Pidge says.

Keith shoves his hands into his pockets and glances at the ship. “It's not gonna work until you refill at least one cell with the refined quintessence the Empire uses. Those cells are... one could power a ship for a decade or two. The others are just backup. Somehow on this ship they've all been drained even though that shouldn’t be possible. That's your mystery.”

Pidge and Hunk both listen to Keith's words with intense concentration. Keith shrugs and starts towards the hangar doors. “That's all I've got.”

“You could stay and hang out,” Hunk calls after him.

Keith ignores him in favor of heading back to his cold and empty bed.

 

* * *

 

Shiro checks up on Pidge and Hunk in the morning, not surprised at all to find them asleep at their desk, Pidge on her chair, slumped on her laptop, and Hunk on the floor using his toolkit as a pillow. Shiro clears his throat and they both start awake.

“I'm awake,” Pidge declares as she bolts up, blinking her eyes and straightening her glasses haphazardly.

Hunk's eyes dart around until they land on Shiro, then he groans and lets his head flop back down. “Five more minutes.”

“How are things coming along?” Shiro asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.

Hunk groans again, and pushes himself up while Pidge turns her laptop back on. “Keith says we need the kind of quintessence the Galra use to get power to the ship. Apparently all the power cells or whatever the Galra call them are drained of their quintessence, and Keith says the ship won't work without them.”

Shiro's face falls, his eyes widening in surprise. “Keith was here?”

Pidge turns her tired eyes to him. “Yeah. We had a midnight snack with him and he said he'd read about Galra ships so we asked him for help.”

Shiro's heart beats a little faster. Keith had helped them, that has to be a good thing. That has to mean Keith is making progress. “And he says you need quintessence?”

Hunk nods. “The kind the Galra uses to power their ships.”

Shiro thinks about it for a moment. They could take on a quintessence refining facility. The Empire isn't as strong as it was before, so it shouldn't be too hard. “Ask the Blade if they have any to spare, if not or if it takes too long for you, we can just get some from one of the Empire's facilities.”

“Sounds good,” Pidge says and turns to her laptop.

Shiro nods, mostly to himself, and turns around and heads to the doors. He stops after a few steps and turns back around. “How was he?”

Hunk and Pidge share a glance Shiro can't decipher. “He was fine. Ish. Maybe more crude and closed off than usual but mostly fine,” Hunk replies.

Shiro grinds his teeth together and takes a deep breath through his nose, and lets it out slowly. “Thanks. Could you try to see if he'll still want to help once you get the quintessence? It might be good for him to do something that’s not lying in bed.”

Pidge nods. “Sure. We could use all the help we can get.”

Shiro's shoulders relax, and he smiles. “Okay. Thanks again. And let me know if you'll need us to go busting into a Galra facility.”

“Will do,” Hunk promises and offers Shiro a halfhearted salute.

Shiro nods and leaves them at it. He'd go see Keith if he wasn't sure he's still sleeping. And if Shiro is completely honest, he's not in a mood to start another fight yet.

Dealing with Keith is like navigating an invisible minefield, and Shiro keeps hitting nothing but mines. He can't get through to Keith, and it's frustrating and enraging, and Shiro hates himself just a bit for not looking forward to seeing Keith again the way he used to do.

Maybe what Keith needs is dealing with people other than Shiro. Maybe Shiro should let him have a day for himself, and they both can breathe and get some distance before trying again.

“Is something wrong?” Coran asks when Shiro enters the bridge to see what the situation with the Empire is that morning.

Shiro shakes his head and frowns. “No. Just — I keep getting into fights with Keith and... I don't know. I wish that didn't happen. Apparently he spent last night helping Pidge and Hunk and they didn't have any problems with him.”

Coran regards him quietly for a moment. “Maybe he picks fights with you because he feels safe around you.”

Shiro raises a disbelieving eyebrow.

Coran sighs. “He trusts you enough to take his pain out on you. I know it's not nice, but remember that it's just him trusting you to not hurt him no matter what he does. Just try not to take it personally and prove him wrong.”

Shiro swallows around the tightness in his throat and nods; it does make him feel a little better. He'd assumed Keith’s just doing everything in his power to push Shiro away, not that he feels safe enough to take his trauma out on Shiro. It's still not nice, but it makes accepting and dealing with Keith's attitude and anger a little easier.

“Has anything new happened?” Shiro asks and steps closer to the map of the Galra Empire and the Coalition's space.

Coran's expression turns dark and concerned. “The Galra have pulled an unusually high percentage of their troops to where Kolivan says their home planet is. According to our Galran allies that can only mean that something big is about to happen there. We need to be cautious.”

Shiro nods. “Send word to every member of the Coalition and the Rebellion. We need everyone ready for whatever they are planning.”

Coran nods. “I'll do that right away.”

While Coran sends the message to their allies, Shiro scowls at the large empty space on their map that holds the Galra home world and its nearby systems. No one has any record of the exact location of the planet, save for the Galra themselves, and even the Blade agents can't pinpoint its exact location on the map.

“It's the most well protected place in the universe,” Kolivan had declared when they had heard Zarkon was taking Keith there. “Even Voltron cannot get near it. That entire blank space is filled with nothing but weapons and security systems designed to destroy anyone and anything that might be a threat to our home.”

Pidge had been sure they could fabricate a clearance that could get them past the many checkpoints, but Kolivan had quickly shot that plan down. Apparently — in addition to the typical artillery — the Galra have scanners and force fields and such in place. “They scan every passing vessel for unauthorized personnel or place of origin. Even a Galra ship with a Galra crew cannot pass unless they have seven codes given to them by seven of the twenty security stations near our homeworld. Those codes are written down on paper on the stations so you cannot simply input codes into the system. Even if you tried that, the system would raise an alarm at the slightest of intrusion and no ship would be allowed to pass anymore,” Kolivan had said.

“We could stowaway and get past the security that way,” Lance had suggested, only to be shot down by Kolivan.

“There are multiple scanners and checkpoints in place, and it is impossible to evade them all. The moment they pick up an unauthorized ship or even a person on board a ship, they will alert every other station in that space and start counter measures to eliminate the threat.”

“We have the Castleship! And Voltron,” Pidge had tried, but once again Kolivan had disagreed.

“You think that you could fight off several star systems and their defenses? Are you so naive as to think that this ten thousand year old technology could take on the full force of the Galra Empire?”

Shiro's frown deepens. They need to know what's going on in there, and though Thace had been taken to the Galra homeworld, they had no way to communicate with him. They don't even know if Thace is alive anymore.

The Galra are clearly planning something, and they have no way of knowing what.

Shiro hates it. He hates not knowing what's to come. He can only hope it's nothing they can't deal with.

 

* * *

 

The Palace is just as Lotor remembers it, even after all the decafebes he’s been gone; all dark stone and clinical cleanliness and order, but it is home, and Lotor takes a moment to enjoy being back there before making his way to the Witch's laboratory in the underground levels.

“You summoned me?” He says as he enters the cold, too well lit space, and does his best not to show his anxiety at being back in that particular space.

Haggar turns to him, her expression grim and displeased. “You are the heir to the throne, it’s time you take your rightful place as such.”

It is not what Lotor had expected, but he keeps his expression neutral and his stance relaxed. “I'm sure Father would disagree with you on that.”

Haggar looks away, and — no matter how much he fights it — Lotor's face twists, betraying his surprise just for a tick. “I want to see him.”

“Take the throne and lead your people. They need you to be a decent heir for once in your life.” Haggar throws a glare at Lotor before walking back to her desk.

Lotor swallows and focuses on keeping his breathing and expression under control. “I demand to see my father.”

Haggar falters, just for a tick, before continuing picking through the several pads on her desk. “That is not possible. Take the throne and lead your people.”

The world stops turning for an eternity before spinning again too fast, and Lotor can do nothing but stare at Haggar's back, waiting for her to tell him where his father is or give him a reason why he cannot see him. Lotor would accept anything, that the Witch is treating him and he is not able to see anyone at the moment, that he is ill or injured, and she doesn't want Lotor bothering him. That he is merely unconscious so there would be no point in Lotor following the millennia of tradition and customs that his father holds so dear by staying by his side.

“Is this going to be a temporary arrangement?” Lotor asks, his steady voice betraying none of the turmoil raging inside him.

“Of course,” Haggar replies a little too fast.

“What does Father think of this?” Lotor asks, his gaze fixed on Haggar's back.

Haggar remains silent for a tick too long. “Your father is in no condition to have an opinion on the matter at the moment.”

Lotor fists his hands, but inclines his head and forces his stance to relax. “In that case I shall inform the public and the commanders that I will be taking the throne until Father feels better.”

Haggar inclines her head, and Lotor leaves her to her work.

He has an empire to take over, and his next move to plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unfortunately I have no idea when the next update is coming, due to the situation explained [in this post](http://saremina.tumblr.com/post/176071518193/emergency-commission-time). I'd explain it again here but honestly? I don't have the energy for that right now.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look! It's a new chapter.

When Pidge and Hunk come to tell Keith that they have secured the quintessence for the scout ship, Keith grudgingly agrees to help them inspect the ship again. He's too bored to not grab at the chance to tinker with the ship and busy his mind.

Keith helps Hunk refill the quintessence cells — “The Blade gave this to us,” Hunk had said when Keith had narrowed his eyes at the quintessence containers — and waits in the cockpit while the quintessence works its way through the ship, getting the ship’s systems ready to be started on again.

Hunk and Pidge scramble to join Keith in the cockpit when the control panel beeps, a single small light flickering to life signaling that the power has returned.

“Now what?” Pidge asks as Hunk leans over Keith's shoulder to frown at the controls.

“Push a button I guess?” Hunk replies and pokes at the panel, but nothing happens.

Pidge gives him a flat, unimpressed look. “You need Galra genetics or their tech to operate it, remember?”

Hunk glances over his shoulder at her. “Should we get Shiro?”

Keith sighs and pushes Hunk out of his way, and places his hand on the control panel. The system hums and comes alive, and Keith ignores Hunk and Pidge in favor of pulling up the flight data. He scrolls through it, trying to figure out where the ship came from and where it was going. He finds a mention of a base deep in the Empire and something about a routine scout mission, but Keith's understanding of the Galran language isn’t good enough for him to understand every word.

Hunk and Pidge are deep in a hushed conversation when Keith skims through the last entries in the log.

“There's a mention of an unidentified ship approaching, but nothing else. If I read this right all the systems shut down almost simultaneously due to rapid quintessence loss,” Keith says, and the silence that falls gets him to turn his eyes to Pidge and Hunk. “What?”

“You can read Galran?” Pidge asks, her voice incredulous.

Keith shrugs. “Zarkon though it'd be beneficial to me. Well, I convinced him it'd be beneficial.”

Hunk and Pidge share a look — something dark passing their eyes — before Pidge turns back to Keith. “Anything else interesting?”

Keith's ears flatten, but he doesn't mention the look they had shared. “Not really. The ship was on a routine trip. The interesting thing is what happened to the pilot and why the ship lost all its quintessence with no damage done to the ship itself.”

“So lets figure out what caused that,” Hunk says, his voice just a little too cheery.

Keith's tail twitches and he stands. “I'm tired, I think I’m gonna go lie down for a bit.”

He pushes past Hunk and Pidge, ignoring their protests as he goes. They still let him leave, despite their grumbling.

Keith heads straight to the elevator and orders it to take him to the floor where his room is, leaning against the back wall as a heavy sigh escapes his lips. The elevator has gone up barely two floors when it stops and the doors open, and Keith comes face to face with Lance and Allura. Keith's ears twitch back and Allura frowns.

Keith casts his eyes to the ground and lets his hair fall around his face.

It takes a moment, but Lance and Allura join Keith in the elevator, and Allura presses a button before joining Lance’s side. The elevator jolts and begins climbing again, and Keith presses himself against the wall to make himself as small and unnoticeable as he can. Allura is the first to exit, leaving Lance and Keith only in a marginally less uncomfortable silence than before.

Lance glances at Keith a few times before clearing his throat. “You’re coming out of your room now?”

Keith shrugs.

Lance shifts, tense for a moment before he turns to face Keith. “What's the deal with the ears and the tail? Was that something you agreed to or did they just give them to you?”

Keith can't tell if Lance is trying to be friendly or if he's being his usual self and picking on Keith, so he stays silent and keeps his eyes glued to the floor. Lance sighs, but to Keith's relief he doesn't say anything else.

As soon as the elevator doors open, Keith bolts through them and hurries to his room.

 

* * *

 

Keith tries to reach Zarkon again, but just like the hundred times he's tried before, he gets no reaction. There's nothing of the bond to be found.

Not even the faintest of impressions or a whisper of the warmth of Zarkon’s mind that should be there.

Keith bites back the tears and tells himself it's just temporary — that Zarkon is going to come for him soon, that he wouldn’t just abandon Keith. But if he’s hurt he might not be able to come for Keith. Maybe, if Zarkon can’t come for Keith, Keith should figure out how to get back to Zarkon.

Keith had promised to stay with Zarkon, and there’s nothing that will make him break that promise. He just needs to find his way back to Zarkon’s side.

 

* * *

 

Shiro leads the team on a mission to take over a planet under the Empire's shaky control. The mission goes better than they anticipated — but with the Empire's weakened state that should've been expected — and Allura convinces the leader of the freed planet to join the Coalition. It doesn't take much to convince them, and everyone is ecstatic after their victory and of their new alliance, but Shiro can't find it in him to celebrate with the others.

He wishes Keith was there with them. He should be there, sharing in their victory and enjoying the progress they are making, but these days Keith seems to be more on the Galra's side than theirs.

Shiro has no idea how to change it.

Not to mention that Keith still thinks Zarkon is alive and planning on getting Keith back. Keith thinks he _loves_ Zarkon. How is Shiro supposed to fix that?

“You don't look happy,” Lance says as he flops down by Shiro's side on the steps of the parliament house.

“It's nothing,” Shiro says and frowns at the view of the city before him, all destroyed buildings and smoking holes in the streets from where the Galra had attacked Voltron and bombed the city. He sighs and looks down at his hands. “Keith.”

Lance hums and rests his elbows on his knees. “The Galra really messed him up.”

“Yeah.” Shiro bites his lip. “It’s like he’s somewhere far away and I don't know how to reach him.”

“I don't know what to tell you, man. He's not okay. I keep half expecting him to kill us all in our sleep for the glory of the Empire or something.” Lance's lips quirk up in a shaky, sardonic smile, but he can't hold it for long.

Shiro still scowls at him, but there’s no heat in his eyes.

The happy laughter and music of the celebration carrying from the open windows of the parliament sound wrong against the silence of the burnt city, and Shiro's scowl deepens.

 

* * *

 

Shiro takes Keith a slice of Hunk's experimental pizza and a glass of juice one evening, along with the blush toy he'd bought Keith from the space mall but he never found the right time to give Keith — he’s not sure this is the right time either, but staring at the plush sitting in his room has become just another thing keeping Keith and Shiro apart. Shiro had bought the toy to Keith, he should be giving it to him and not keeping it on a shelf in his own room like Keith isn’t back in the Castleship.

Shiro’s hoping to tell Keith that they have pushed the Empire back again. Shiro anticipates a fight and he's ready for it, but Keith has the right to know what they are doing. Shiro is sure Zarkon had kept him in complete darkness on anything that had been going on with the war while Keith was with the Galra, and Shiro isn’t willing to continue that cycle.

Shiro knocks on Keith’s door, but gets no answer; he hadn't expected to get one so he doesn't think too much of it.

He still gives Keith a moment before opening the door. “I brought pizza and, um, I think you could call it mandarin juice? And I got you this stuffed toy from a mall. I forgot to give it to you earlier.”

Keith — flopped face down on the bed — doesn't react.

Shiro sighs and sets the plate with the pizza and the juice down on the table, and the toy on the chair. “Our mission at — “

“I don't want to hear it,” Keith snaps, shutting Shiro up instantly.

Shiro's eyes dart around as he thinks, trying not to get frustrated. He reminds himself of his chat with Coran, but it's been weeks and Keith has barely left his room, let alone had a conversation that didn't end up in a fight with someone — usually with Shiro.

“We're all trying, you know? We’re trying to make you feel welcome, and we’re trying to give you the space you need. You could at least acknowledge that and not treat us like we’re your enemy .” Shiro bites his lip and waits for the inevitable fight he's just started.

Keith pushes himself up, his ears already flattened. “I told you not to come for me, and you expect me to be grateful for kidnapping me?”

“We _saved_ you! The Galra captured you and did who knows what to you, and we saved you.” Shiro knows he shouldn't let Keith rope him into an argument, and he's usually good at keeping his emotions in check, but not today; not after they've just fought a long battle with the Galra.

“No. You _think_ you saved me, but all you did was take me away from someone I love.” Keith crosses his arms and glares at Shiro. “I had friends, I was happy, and I had a good relationship with someone I love. I was better off there than I've ever been anywhere else. And Zarkon, he... he isn't perfect but he — “

“Loved you?” Shiro raises an incredulous eyebrow and scoffs. “He wouldn't have loved you no matter what you did.”

Shiro realizes his mistake even before Keith's face falls. The tears that pool in Keith's eyes just hammer it in better. Shiro's shoulders slump and he berates himself silently before sighing. “I didn't mean it like that.”

Keith sniffles and looks away, his hair falling over his face.

Shiro takes a step closer to Keith and spreads his arms, not knowing what else to do. “Keith, I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. I'd never mean it like that, you know it.”

Keith's shoulders shake and he brushes his palm across his face, wiping away his tears. Shiro takes another step closer to him. “I just meant that he specifically didn't love you. Someone like him doesn’t love anyone.”

“You always do that,” Keith sobs, and Shiro frowns.

“Do what?”

Keith sniffles and turns to Shiro. “You always find something wrong with everyone I go out with — “

“It's Zarkon. He — “

“He loves me!” Keith blinks his too bright eyes, his mouth drawing into a hard line. “I know it. I know he does. I can _feel_ it.” He waves at his hand at his head before placing it on top of his heart. “I can feel it.”

Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Just because you want him to love you doesn't mean it's true. And I always just wanted what's best for you.”

Keith lets out a short, humorless laugh. “And best for me is you criticizing the people I'm attracted to over the stupidest things?”

Shiro shakes his head. “No, that's not why — “

“Because to me it seems like you don't want me to be happy,” Keith continues.

“That's not true!” Shiro takes a fast step forward, making Keith flinch back. “I want you to be happy.”

“I was happy!” Keith bares his teeth for a second. “I was happy with Zarkon, and I was happy with every other person I've ever gone out with, but you always had to ruin it.”

Shiro raises his hands. “I’ve never — “

“What is so wrong with me that you think no one can just love me?” Keith's voice breaks, and he turns his back to Shiro as he sobs, unable to stop himself for any longer.

Shiro tries to breathe around the lump in his throat as he hurries to Keith and pulls him into his arms. “There's nothing wrong with you.”

Keith just sobs harder. Shiro turns him around and cups his face. “Hey. There's nothing wrong with you.”

Keith shakes his head and tries to push Shiro away.

“No, listen. There is nothing wrong with you. There are a lot of people who care about you and who love you, okay?”

Keith shakes his head again and tries to pull away. Shiro only holds him tighter. “You deserve better. I’ve never wanted nothing but the best for you, and I’m sorry if I’ve made you feel like you’re not good enough because you are.”

“Zarkon — “Keith sobs, the words getting strangled in his throat.

Shiro presses his lips together, trying not to frown. “I know he might've made it seem like he loved you, but he didn't. He wasn't capable of that. I know it hurts to hear and I’m sorry about that, but it’s the truth.”

“He loves me, he does. And you took me away.” Keith closes his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath while Shiro shakes his head. “He's the only one who's ever known me and seen me for who I am and still loved me — “

“I love you,” Shiro blurts out before he can stop himself.

Keith stops crying, blinking his wide, shocked eyes at Shiro, trying to see him through the tears still clinging to his lashes. Shiro stares at him with a similar expression on his own face.

The silence stretches for an eternity.

Then Keith yanks himself free from Shiro's hold, his expression going from shocked to hurt and angry faster than Shiro thought possible. “Why would you tell that to me now?”

Shiro doesn't know, and he can do nothing to change what he just did.

“Get out,” Keith orders, his voice dangerously void of emotion.

Shiro opens his mouth, but no words come out. Keith's ears flatten and his tail twitches, and there's something dark and cold in his eyes that make him seem like a stranger, if only for a second.

Shiro looks away and nods, more to himself than to Keith. He has no excuse for why he confessed the one thing he'd sworn he'd never confessed to, and now he's done it at the worst possible time.

He glances at Keith one last time before trudging to the door and leaving the room.

He calls Coran to check on Keith, thinking it's best if someone is with Keith right now. As soon as he's sure Keith won't be alone, he heads to the training deck, intending to wreck the Gladiator at least twice before even thinking about going back to his own room.

 

* * *

 

Keith stares after Shiro, half sure he's dreaming.

He can’t believe Shiro just said that. There's no way he did that after letting Keith build a new life for a year, after letting Keith fall in love and find a place in the universe where he was accepted just as he is, only to take that all away against Keith's wishes — with Keith screaming and fighting against being taken — and told him he loved Keith.

No way did that just happen.

Keith sobs, from the heartbreak of being separated from Zarkon or his anger for Shiro, he doesn't know. He slumps on the floor, leaning against the bed and pulling his knees up to his chest, and lets himself cry.

The door opens and closes a few moments later, but Keith ignores it. Soon Coran is sitting on the floor with him, rubbing soothing circles between Keith's shoulder blades. “Whatever it is, it'll be alright,” he says.

Keith only cries harder.

Why couldn't Shiro just keep his mouth shut?

“Just let it all out and you'll feel better,” Coran continues. “We can reheat your food or get you a new slice afterwards. Or we can get milkshakes! Lance has been teaching me how to make them.”

Keith wants to go back to Zarkon and the Galra where everything makes sense. He wants the bond back and the easy understanding it had brought with it. He misses being able to tap into that connection whenever he was unsure of something, and have it clarify everything.

He misses the closeness he'd felt even when he'd been alone.

Coran puts his arm around Keith's shoulders and pulls him closer. “You'll be fine.”

Keith doesn't believe him.

 

* * *

 

Keith is too tired to eat, so Coran helps him out of his clothes and into bed. He stays by Keith’s side until Keith falls asleep, the soft blue light of his pad illuminating the room.

Keith doesn't say it, but the appreciates Coran staying with him; he's not sure he could fall asleep if he was alone.

 

* * *

 

Keith wakes up hours later, exhausted but feeling a little better.

He pushes himself off the bed and puts his clothes on before heading to the kitchen. His ears are perked to pick up any sound, but the only one he's truly worried about hearing is Shiro. He's not ready to face him just yet. Not after last night.

Not after Shiro told him he loved him at the worst possible moment.

And who's to say Shiro meant it romantically? Maybe he just meant that he loves Keith in general, like a friend or family. It doesn't mean he's in love Keith. He wouldn't be: Keith isn't Shiro's type.

He heads to the kitchen that's thankfully empty, and gets himself a quick snack before leaving the kitchen. Once he reaches the first intersection, he stops. He doesn't feel like going back to his room just yet; he’s vibrating with restless energy, and he needs to get rid of it.

So he wanders around the ship, ready to duck into a quiet corner should someone approach him, but he hears nothing. The ship is almost eerily quiet.

His feet take him to the bridge, and he hesitates before opening the doors. To Keith’s dismay, everyone is there — even Kolivan and two of his agents — and they turn to him, surprise taking over their grim expressions. Shiro is the only one who looks away from Keith, trying not to show how bothered by Keith's presence he is. Keith doesn't care, he's far more interested in the image on the screen.

They have pulled up a picture of Lotor of all people, and the picture looks like a frozen frame of a video of some kind, but Keith can't be sure of it. Keith keeps his eyes glued on the severe expression on Lotor's face as he approaches the screen, ignoring everyone else in the room.

“Do you know him?” Kolivan asks, and Keith shakes his head. It's not technically a lie since he's only met Lotor once and Zarkon wasn't exactly forthcoming with the information about him.

“That is Prince Lotor, the Heir Presumptive of the Galra Empire,” Kolivan says, crossing his arms. “Zarkon's only child.”

Keith is careful to keep his expression neutral, especially when he feels everyone's eyes focused solely on him.

“I know,” he says after a moment, not taking his eyes off the screen. He shifts and pulls his shoulders up when no one says anything. “Zarkon and I have a strict open communication and honesty policy. He told me he had a son, I just don’t know him personally.”

“Did he say anything else?” Kolivan asks.

Keith snorts and turns to face him, raising an eyebrow. “You really think I'd tell you anything even if he did?”

Kolivan frowns and crosses his arms.

Keith turns his eyes back to Lotor's picture on the screen. “What's going on?”

A tense silence falls on the bridge while the others contemplates about telling Keith what their current situation is. Eventually Allura sighs, and Kolivan comes to stand by Keith's side. Keith isn't sure why he's the one telling Keith everything, but if his alternatives are Allura or Shiro he won't complain about it.

“This is from a transmission sent across the Empire a week or so ago. Lotor has declared himself Emperor Pro Tem. As he is the only heir to the throne he is the only one with a legitimate claim to it, and he will most likely be solidifying his rule after the next Ra Zora — a yearly meeting between the highest ranking members of the Galra — unless someone challenges his claim to the throne before that.” Kolivan turns his attention from Lotor's picture to Keith.

“And?” Keith lets his impatience and frustration show in his voice.

Kolivan tilts his head. “The best thing that could happen to us is that Lotor never solidifies his rule.”

Keith crosses his arms. “So you want to overthrow Lotor and keep the Empire in a state of chaos, no matter what that does to the Galra or the planets under their rule?”

“It's the best chance we have at bringing the Empire down,” Allura cuts in.

Keith grits his teeth and turns to scowl at her. “And what about all the people caught in the crossfire?”

Allura blinks, uncertain for just a fraction of a second before she steels herself. “We can protect them.”

“All of them?” Keith laughs and shakes his head. “All the people within the Empire — the planets under their rule and the civilian Galra alike? The people who live happily under Galra rule and have trade deals and jobs depended on their relations and the people who have been governed by the Galra for so long they have no idea how to run their own planet? Are you going to help and protect them all? Make sure they can run their governments and stay protected, help them not collapse when their biggest and in some cases only source of income gets ripped from them without a warning? Or are you just gonna focus on the people who have been enslaved but can get on their feet quickly without your help?”

The line of Allura's mouth hardens. “You have been through a horrible trauma and we all understand that, but you don't know what you are talking about. I know that Zarkon might have made it seem like keeping the Empire in place is the best thing, but trust me, the universe will be better off without them. Everything will work out just fine in the end.”

Keith stares at her, trying to figure out if she genuinely can't see the dangers of what they are doing, or if she's downright delusional in her belief that what she's doing is the right thing and that’s all that matters. “You're gonna have to think what you're doing sooner or later; you can't just do what you want and not expect there to be consequences. Especially when you're trying to overthrow a ten thousand year old empire. You need to look at the big picture for a change and stop focusing on getting revenge.”

Keith heads to the door without waiting for Allura's reply. He's said his opinion and he doesn't want to fight with anyone, at least not so publicly.

He's striding down the hallway, not really caring where he's going as long as it's far away from everyone else.

“Wait!”

Keith takes two more steps before stopping and turning around to face the red haired Galra hurrying after him. She stops right outside of Keith's personal space, as if she can see where the line goes. Maybe she can. She's Galra, after all, and Keith knows he's not good at controlling his ears or his tail.

“I’m Rejya. I was hoping to talk to you for a moment,” she says, offering Keith a polite bow of her head.

“Why would I want to talk to you?” Keith asks, crossing his arms.

“Because I — as well as several of my colleagues — share your concerns about what could happen if the Empire is not dealt with in the correct way.” She seems earnest enough, and Keith licks his lips, looking away he considers of what to do or say next.

“I don't think the Empire should continue as it is,” he starts, sparing Rejya a glance to gauge her reaction. She inclines her head, and Keith stands a little taller. “I think the best thing for everyone in the universe, at least in long term, would be to change the Empire and dismantle it slowly in a way that doesn't leave thousands of planets that have been dependent on the Empire for who knows how long on their own overnight. I just... I don't know how to do that and they don't want to hear any of it.”

Keith sighs, frustrated as much with himself as he is with the others.

Rejya studies him quietly for a long moment before stepping around Keith. “Walk with me.”

Keith falls in step with her and lets her lead him into the hangar where the small ship the Blade had used to get to the Castleship is. He hesitates before following her in, but once he's in the ship he relaxes — feeling almost at home in the dim lighting and the higher temperature of the ship.

“So... you're planning on going against Kolivan or something?” Keith asks as he looks around. The ship is nothing more than a standard, small shuttle meant for longer runs, and there's nothing of interest that catches his eye.

“No,” Rejya states immediately. “We simply want to find the best possible solution to the situation. If we can come up with a plan that will work, he will hear it. If it's a plan that will protect the Galra civilians, he will accept it.”

“You sure about that? He seems pretty cozy with Allura.” Keith raises an eyebrow when she frowns.

“She does not care for our people.” Rejya's voice is as dark as her expression.

“And yet you follow her,” Keith points out.

Rejya’s ears twitch back. “We follow our Leader. If he thinks the princess is our best chance at success, we will do as he says.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Galra loyalty at its best, huh? You know, Zarkon cares about his people. I know he's got a fucked up way of going about it, but he genuinely cares about them. You — us. I managed to convince him to get water to these people the Empire had enslaved because it was beneficial to do so. If the Galra benefited from him not enslaving and conquering the universe, he'd stop.”

Rejya cocks her head. “The Emperor is dead.”

Keith's ears flatten. “Think what you like.”

Rejya shifts, but doesn't address Keith's comment. She goes to dig around the back of the ship for something, and she returns moments later with a pocket sized pad. “If you ever do decide to come to see our base, know you are not the only one who thinks that the way we are approaching dismantling the Empire at the moment is not a good one.”

Keith inclines his head as he takes the pad. “I'll keep that in mind.”

“You should keep that hidden for now. I don’t think your friends would be happy to know you have Galra technology in your possession,” Rejya adds. Keith frowns and puts the pad in his pocket. He’ll have to find a good place to hide it once he’s in his room, one where no one will look even if they were searching for something.

“Now get going before the others grow curious,” Rejya says as Keith straightens up and meets her eyes, a hint of a smile in her voice.

Keith offers her a small smile and bids her goodbye before hurrying straight to his room, the pad burning in his pocket and a glimmer of hope flickering alive in his chest.

Maybe, just maybe, Keith can use this to find his way back to Zarkon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea when I have the energy to get the next chapter up. Maybe next week maybe the week after that. Who knows?
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got this done before the weekend! I'm so proud of myself even if I'm ready to sleep for a century.

Keith spends the next day fiddling with the pad Rejya had given him.

There's nothing on it that would help Keith get back to Zarkon, but there is a lot of interesting information about the Coalition and the Empire, though none of it is truly useful or anything Keith doesn’t already know. Perhaps it’s because Rejya is testing him — perhaps on Kolivan's orders — or because she simply hadn't deemed him trustworthy enough to be provided with any real information.

Keith sighs and goes through the information one more time before looking at the other files on the pad. He finds Rejya's contact information as well as Kolivan's and a few other people he doesn't know, a month’s worth of study material on the Galran language — Thace must have told the Blade he'd been learning the Galran language — and both text and audio files of a few novels.

It all seems a little too convenient and planned out for Keith to believe that Rejya hadn't intended to give the pad to him when she came onboard the Castleship. Since he now has the ability to do so, Keith sends her a message saying as much. He'd try to connect the pad to the Empire's network if he could — to see the official news feed if nothing else — but he has no doubt the Blade are monitoring his new pad and Keith doesn’t want to give them a reason to think he’s doing anything out of the ordinary.

Rejya replies moments later, and her answer makes Keith frown.

_We intended to give it to you._

It's not very helpful, but at least she admitted to coming onboard with the intention of giving the pad to him. Keith sends her a message asking why, but she doesn't answer.

Keith doesn't know if it's because she's busy or because she doesn't want to.

 

* * *

 

The Paladins arrive on a planet they had liberated from under Galra rule a few months ago, unsure of what exactly they’ll find once they land but expecting they will be there for quite some time.

The rebel agent who had stayed behind to study the minerals the Galra had been forcing the natives mine for years had called the Rebellion and the Castleship just hours ago, informing them that the heavy rains have broken a dam and caused a flood and that the natives don’t have the know how to deal with it.

“Okay, all we need to do is fix the dam and we can be on our way,” Shiro says as he guides Black to land on the soaked town center. The others follow suit, and soon they are all out of their Lions and standing ankle deep in muddy water.

“Well, this is lovely,” Pidge says.

“Do you think the Galra caused this somehow?” Lance asks, lifting his foot from the water and frowning at murky water dripping off his previously white boots.

Allura frowns and crosses her arms. “It is possible that their disregard for the planet caused the land to flood.”

“Whatever the cause, we need to fix this,” Shiro says as he starts towards the building the new leadership had settled in.

The others follow him, and they drudge through the water for a minute or two before reaching the green, egg-shaped building the new government had selected as their headquarters. The building is one of the few larger ones that the Galra had shown little interest in, and the natives had thought it suitable for their government to use while they fix the damage the Galra had done to the old parliament house.

The acting Governor hurries down the six steps of the temporary parliament as the Paladins approach, his pale blue robes getting drenched in the water when he reaches the bottom of the steps. The acting Governor is a tall, willowy man with smooth scales for skin and two sets of eyes that sit a little too close to each other on his flat face. “It's a disaster!” He declares, stopping a few feet before reaching the Paladins.

Shiro raises a hand to calm him down. “It's going to be fine, just tell us what happened.”

The Governor spreads his arms and looks around at the water surrounding them. “The rains muddied the hills and flooded the rivers! Then the dam broke and the drains can't deal with all of this.” He clasps his shoulders and shakes his head. “This never happened before.”

“We'll figure it out,” Shiro promises before turning to his team. “What do we need?”

“I think we need blueprints or maps of the sewer system,” Hunk says.

“Impossible,” the Governor says. “The Galra modified the system and they left no map or blueprints.”

Hunk frowns. “What about the dam?”

The Governor holds himself tighter. “The Galra never let us near it. We don't know anything about it anymore. Just that it's always been there.”

Shiro suppresses a sigh. Of course the Galra hadn't let the natives near the dam. “I'm sure we can fix it.”

The others nod, determined expressions on their faces. Hunk wants to see everything the Governor has on the dam and the sewer system, even if it's outdated and inaccurate by now. Pidge goes with him, while Shiro leads Allura and Lance to see the dam itself.

“That's a big crack,” Lance states when the dam comes to their view, and Shiro nods in agreement.

The dam — or what's left of it — is made of stone and what passes for concrete in space, and it looks like someone took an axe to it and split it down the middle; large pieces of rubble lay around the ground, half buried in the mud and under the water. Most of the top of the dam is gone as well.

Shiro sighs. “Any idea how we could fix that?”

“We could freeze it,” Allura suggests.

Lance shakes his head. “It's too warm for that- The ice would melt and only add to the water already flooding everything.”

They fall into a contemplative silence as they observe the water leisurely running from the large opening in the dam.

“We could just stick mud, stones and sticks to that hole before we find something better to fill it with,” Lance suggests.

“That might work, at least for the moment,” Allura agrees, giving Lance a pleased smile that makes Lance grin.

Shiro huffs so quietly the others miss it. “Let's head back to the others and let them know what the situation is.”

Pidge and Hunk have looked through what little remains of the blueprints of the sewer system and the dam, and they don't look happy with their findings. “As far as we can tell, the Galra redid everything,” Pidge informs them.

“We think we can fill the hole in the dam to buy us time to figure out what to do about it and the water without worrying about the flooding at the same time,” Shiro says.

Pidge and Hunk share a look. “That would definitely help,” Hunk says.

They form a plan that consists of Hunk, Pidge and Allura blocking the dam, and Shiro and Lance helping the locals get started on clearing the drains.

The rebel agent — a small, burly looking woman that had made Lance think of a newt — joins them in their efforts. They soon realize that getting the sewer system operational again isn't as simple as it sounds, and after an hour of work Hunk, Pidge and Allura join them.

They clear away some of the mud the water has washed down to the streets, but the drains are blocked and there's little they can do about that with all the water around them.

“We need pumps or something,” Pidge groans, getting nothing but agreements in return.

“Unfortunately the Galra didn't leave anything useful behind,” Allura sighs.

The Galra had destroyed everything they hadn't been able to take with them in a short notice, and though they all agree that it's good the natives aren't forced to rely on the technology of their oppressors for survival, it would be useful to have something to help them drain the water still lying around.

“We need a better plan!” Lance throws his arms in the air and turns to frown at Shiro. “This doesn't work.”

“I know,” Shiro tells him, gritting his teeth together to keep his own frustration in check.

They regroup and rethink their plan. There's not much they can do with all the water around, and they have no way of getting rid of the water either. It's a dilemma they can't seem to solve, and it puts everyone in a sour mood.

They don't have long to dwell on their problem before a loud boom shakes the city.

For a moment nothing happens, then a wave washes over the city, the sound of it approaching deafening and the sight of it terrifying. Everyone panics and runs away from it, to high ground or into the buildings or just away, screaming as they go.

The wave passes in seconds, leaving muddy water and silence in its wake.

The entire town center is flooded and the water now comes up to Shiro’’s knees, but the damage isn't quite as severe as he knows it could have been.

“Is everyone alright?” He calls, getting several confirming calls in return. “Find everyone and make sure no one is hurt,” Shiro orders before wading through the water towards the dam.

The rest of his team join him, so does the rebel agent and the Governor. They make it to the dam, only to find the crack in the dam reopened. Shiro groans.

“Well, that didn't help,” Hunk says unhelpfully.

“Can't you get the Galra back?” The Governor asks, much to everyone's dismay. “Just to fix the dam and the sewers?”

“No.” Allura's voice is hard, just like the frown on her face.

“Not the Empire, at least,” Pidge steps in, “but maybe the Blade can help us.”

It's something Shiro hadn't considered, and it's a new idea so he takes it. “Let's call the Blade, then.”

 

* * *

 

The Blade are a lot less helpful than Shiro had hoped, and the Paladins end up spending a better part of the night trying to fix the dam. Eventually they have some success — after they get help from some of their other allies — and the Paladins trudge back to the Castleship, exhausted and muddy and smelling like the sewer.

Shiro barely has it in him to take a shower.

They had gotten news of the situation in the town while they had been working on figuring out what to do with the new hole in the dam, and the damage to the town had been worse than they had originally thought. There had been a few casualties — as the natives were not built to take damage very well — and most of the property would be needing either rebuilding or extensive reconstruction.

“The Galra were here for decafebes and this never happened,” the Governor had cried out, making everyone feel just a little bit worse about the situation.

Shiro grits his teeth and focuses on washing the stench from his skin.

After he's satisfied he doesn't smell quite so horrible, he steps out of the shower and dries himself off. He pulls on a t-shirt and a pair of dark pants, then heads out of the door. He's exhausted in a way he hasn't been in a long time, and he just wants to sleep until the next day, maybe even until the day after that.

Shiro gets halfway through to his room before he sees Keith standing at the end of the hallway, holding a sugar covered pastry and staring at Shiro with wide eyes. Shiro stops too, the memory of Keith's reaction to his confession of his feelings flashing through his mind, and his shoulders draw up against Shiro’s will.

Of course he can't get a moment of peace. Shiro frowns, mad at himself for even thinking like that. Keith isn't a burden or a problem, and Shiro has no right to think so — not even for a second — after everything Keith has been through.

For a moment it looks like Keith is going to turn on his heels and head to the other direction, but then he sets his shoulders and walks towards Shiro, his steps determined.

Shiro considers running the other way to avoid a confrontation, but he's tired and he needs just a second of the comfort Keith always brings to him just by being near.

Keith stops a few feet from him, a contemplative frown on his face. “You look horrible.”

Shiro chuckles. “I feel horrible.”

It's the most normal exchange they've had since they got Keith back.

Keith shuffles on his feet and chews his lip. Shiro doesn't want to say anything; he doesn't want to start another fight. Not now.

“You should go sleep,” Keith says, and Shiro can't help but smile. After everything — after all their fights and Shiro's confession — Keith is still so caring. Zarkon hadn't been able to take that away and it’s a small victory, at least to Shiro.

“I just took a shower,” Shiro starts, then shakes his head as he looks down and sighs. “We were trying to fix this dam. It kept breaking and flooding the town over and over again and we couldn't do anything about it. The people there had no idea how to live without the Galra taking care of everything.”

Keith shifts, and when he speaks his voice is tense. “Did you fix the dam?”

Shiro nods. “We got help from the Coalition. One of our allies brought new materials and pumps for the sewers, and they're there fixing everything right now. There wasn't anything we could've done anymore so we left them to it.”

“That's good,” Keith offers, “the dam getting fixed, I mean.”

“Yeah,” Shiro sighs in agreement.

Keith stays by his side for a few seconds longer before taking a step back and starting down the hallway.

Shiro lets him get a few steps away before hurrying after him. “Keith, wait.”

Keith stops, his shoulders tensing as he turns around.

Shiro raises his hands to pacify him. “I just... I'm sorry. I — did I ruin things between us?”

Keith frowns and bites his lip as he studies Shiro with an expression Shiro can't quite read. After a moment Keith sighs and shakes his head minutely. “I don't know.”

Shiro nods. “I know you wanted to stay with the Galra and I'm sorry I hurt you but you have to understand I just want you safe. And I know I picked the worst possible time to tell you I love you, but I don't need you say or do anything about it. I just... I don't want to lose you.”

Keith's face scrunches up and he looks away, and Shiro's eyes burn. He swallows around the lump in his throat, refusing to put that on Keith on top of everything else.

“Look, Shiro,” Keith starts, then sighs, his ears drooping in what Shiro thinks is defeat. “I know you did what you thought was right, but it wasn’t, and I wish you all would at least stop insisting that my feelings aren't valid. I know what I went through. I _know_. And I'm not saying it was all good but it wasn't all bad either, and you all keep telling me it was and — “

Shiro pulls Keith into a crushing hug. “I'm sorry. I'll do better, I promise.”

Keith is too tense in his arms, too quiet. “I'm sorry,” Shiro whispers, his eyes wet from tears that he doesn't bother stopping from falling.

Slowly, Keith puts his arms around Shiro, mindful of the pastry he's still holding. “I know.”

Shiro holds Keith tighter and buries his face in Keith's neck. It's wrong somehow that he can do so now; it's wrong that Keith is as tall as he is, but he's grateful for the chance nevertheless.

Keith rubs his thumb along Shiro's back, cautious and unsure, and Shiro can’t help but cry quietly. Keith holds him without a single complaint, just like he used to do before Zarkon, and Shiro loves him just a little bit more for it.

After a small eternity Shiro's tears subside, and he merely clings to Keith for comfort. Keith is the first to pull away, but only enough to look Shiro in the eye. Keith hesitates, lifting his pastry free hand as if to touch Shiro's face. Shiro sniffles and blinks, tears still clinging to his lashes, and offers Keith an encouraging if a wobbly smile. Keith brushes the tears from Shiro's face with a feather light touch and Shiro has to resist the urge to lean into the touch.

“You should go to bed,” Keith says, his voice soft.

Shiro nods and clears his throat before taking a step away from Keith. “Yeah, you're right.”

Keith starts down the hallway, but he walks slowly enough that Shiro feels comfortable joining his side. They walk in silence until they reach Shiro's door, and Keith shoves the last of his pastry into his mouth when they stop in front of it.

Shiro's heart beats too loud in his ears as he clears his throat. “Do you want to come in?”

“Why?” Keith asks, his voice muffled by the pastry.

Shiro shrugs and looks away. “I just don't feel like being alone.” He risks a glance at Keith. “And I've missed you.”

Keith frowns as he considers it, but eventually he inclines his head and follows Shiro into the room.

 

* * *

 

Keith shifts, trying to find a comfortable position without waking Shiro up.

He's not sure why he'd agreed to come to Shiro's room, and he's not sure why he stayed and curled on the bed with Shiro, or why he stayed after Shiro fell asleep. He studies Shiro's face, so calm and untouched by the horrors he has been through in his sleep. It fills Keith with sadness that nearly overwhelms the warmth he feels from lying by Shiro's side like he'd done so many times so long ago, before the Galra or Voltron; before the Kerberos mission.

Before any of the horrors they had both been thorough.

Keith sighs and closes his eyes, trying to convince himself he's back on Earth, in his own bed on a night Shiro had decided to stay over instead of heading home, and they had shared Keith's bed.

He can't quite convince himself of it, but he tries.

 

* * *

 

Things are better after that, much to Keith's surprise.

Shiro either avoids the topic of the Galra all together, or he brings them up in the most neutral way possible, never even approaching the topic of Zarkon or Keith's time with the Galra. It takes a week or so for Keith to begin to ease up around Shiro, and Keith had missed the friendship they had shared so long ago.

Of course the uneasy truce between them doesn't last very long.

“Can I ask you something?” Shiro looks up from his plate of fruit and cheese.

Keith knows it's not wise, but he shrugs. “Sure.”

Shiro clears his throat and focuses on his plate a little too intently. “I was just wondering. About Zarkon.”

A chill runs down Keith's spine and he tenses.

Shiro doesn't look up. “You said you love him, and I just... I guess I'm just trying to understand why.”

Keith sighs and sets his own plate of fruit down on the bed by his side. He could tell Shiro he doesn't want to talk about it. He could say it's none of Shiro's business.

“He hates getting up in the mornings,” Keith says instead, his voice quiet, and he smiles softly at the memory. “He once said he should make waking up early illegal.”

Shiro smiles, but it's forced, like he's doing it just because Keith is chuckling softly to himself.

“He likes his tea way too sweet and he reads these stupidly cheesy adventure books and romance novels, and he hoards clothes, and when he gets drunk he complains about stairs. He likes doing my hair for me and he always picks my clothes if we’re going somewhere important because he’s trying to match our looks, even if he won’t admit it.” Keith laughs, his eyes suddenly wet. “He's overprotective and possessive and controlling. He puts up with me waking him up in the middle of the night because I have nightmares and he lets me keep the light on even though I know it bothers him, and he claims that I kick in my sleep.”

“You do kick,” Shiro says, “like a dog dreaming about chasing a rabbit.”

Keith levels him with a withering look, and Shiro does his best not to smile. Keith's tail thumps against the floor and he looks away, his annoyance at Shiro draining away.

“I love the soft smile he never gives to anyone but me, and the way grins when he’s genuinely happy. His nose would scrunch up just so.” Keith touches his nose to demonstrate his point, his smile wobbling as tears threaten to wet his cheeks.

Shiro sighs and reaches to touch Keith's arm gently, and Keith spares him a glance. “I'm not going to tell you to just get over him, and I'm not going to tell you that what you feel isn't real because it's obviously real to you.”

Keith blinks, unsure of where this is all coming from but he appreciates it all the same. “Thanks.”

Shiro's expression softens and squeezes Keith's arm. “I want you to be happy and safe, you know that, right?”

Keith nods, and Shiro smiles before turning serious and pulling his hand away. “Don't get mad, but I think you should hang out with us sometimes, maybe come on missions with us. It's not good for you to be cooped up here all the time.”

Keith lets out a tired sigh and picks at the seam of his pants. “I don't want to fight the Galra.”

Shiro shifts, quiet for a second too long to not betray his discomfort with Keith's words. “We do other stuff too. You could come with us when we go meet up with our allies or when we help the people we've liberated. You don't have to fight anyone if you don't want to.”

Keith shrugs. “Can I think about it?”

“Of course,” Shiro replies immediately.

Keith inclines his head and picks a slice of cheese from Shiro’s plate. Shiro picks a piece of fruit from Keith’s in retaliation, and the silence they lapse into grows more comfortable as time passes. Eventually Shiro offers to tell Keith about some political meeting Allura had participated in, and how Lance had nearly caused an interplanetary incident during it.

Keith nods and settles in, enjoying just listening to the sound of Shiro happily recounting the events of that day.

 

* * *

 

It takes a few days for Keith to make his way to the lounge where the others are enjoying their free time. They fall silent at the sight of Keith, and Keith's ears twist back in response.

Shiro is the first one to recover from his surprise and welcome Keith to sit with them. Keith goes to him, only because he'd come to the conclusion that his best chance at getting back to Zarkon might be doing it himself and he'll have to be able to get away from the Castleship to do that, and to accomplish that he'll need to gain some kind of a mutual ground with the others again.

Keith lets the others do the talking, only giving short replies when someone directly asks him something. No one minds his silence, and Keith is thankful for it; he prefers to just sit in their company for now.

The day passes without incident and it emboldens Keith to join the others for dinner every now and again.

Nobody brings up the Galra or the war and Keith knows it's because he's there.

Eventually everyone gets used to Keith's quiet presence, and Keith gets used to being around them again. Allura is the only one who seems to be uncomfortable around Keith, but since Keith is just as uncomfortable around her, he can't really blame her for it.

Shiro is the most excited about Keith getting out of his room though sometimes Keith feels like he's being a little too excited about it, like he's trying a little too hard to get the others to be happy about Keith's presence as well. Keith doesn't mention it to him, not wanting to upset Shiro now that they're finally starting to get along again.

“Do you want to come spar with us later today?” Shiro asks one morning when their paths cross.

Keith should say no, just for the simple reason that he doesn't want the others to see how much he'd developed under Marzila's and Zarkon’s tutelage. On the other hand, he doesn't have to participate in the actual sparring, and going would help him appear more like what Shiro and the others want him to be like. “I could come watch,” he offers, and to Keith’s relief it's good enough for Shiro.

The others don't mind his presence that much either, especially since Keith merely hovers in the farthest corner from them while Allura teaches Lance how to use a sword.

Keith wants to go over to them and correct them both, to tell them that there is a better way to do what Lance is trying to do, but he doesn't. It's not his place, and Allura is trying to teach Lance to wield a sword in a very Altean style while Keith had been taught to do the same in a Galran style. Of course what Lance is doing doesn't seem right to him.

Shiro meanders over to him and Keith tries not to tense. “You look like you have something to say,” Shiro says, his voice carefully conversational.

Keith sighs. “It's nothing. She's just teaching him in a strange way.”

Shiro nods and crosses his arms. “I know you said you don't want to spar with us, but if you want, I could go a round or two with you after they leave.”

Keith glances at Shiro, surprised by the understanding warming his gaze.

“Thace told us Zarkon had someone train you. I get why you might not be comfortable with them seeing what you've learned. I wasn't comfortable with you all seeing what I'd learned in the Arena either.” Shiro smiles, but there's sadness to it. “You're worried about how they'll look at you if they see what you can do.”

Keith looks away, his bangs falling to cover his face. “I don't want to hurt you.”

“If you don't want to spar with me I'm sure Kolivan could spare someone from the Blade to come train with you,” Shiro replies.

Keith resists the urge to shake his head, thinking Shiro's offer over. “I’ll think about it?”

Shiro nods. “That’s fine. Just let me know what you decide. And there’s always the Gladiator too, if that’s something you’d prefer.”

Their attention returns to the others just in time to see Allura disarm Lance in a spectacular fashion. Shiro huffs a quiet laugh before pulling Keith out of the room and leading Keith to the kitchen.

“Where’s the Galra scout ship?” Keith asks over a cup of tea. Shiro frowns,and Keith hurries to add, “I was wandering around last night and it was gone. I was hoping to tinker with it to pass the time.”

“We gave it to the Blade,” Shiro replies, the frown still on his face. “They have more use for it than us and Pidge says she has everything she needs to study the logs and such.”

Keith nods and they finish their teas in silence.

Afterwards, Keith heads to his room and Shiro trails after him. Keith doesn't stop him from entering his room, or from sitting by Keith's side on the bed. Keith pulls the stuffed platypus like toy Shiro had given him onto his lap and squeezes it while Shiro leans on the wall with a heavy sigh.

Shiro glances at Keith, a small smile playing on his lips. “You remember the night you stopped by my place with that bottle of wine before I left on the Kerberos mission?”

Keith nods.

“That was fun,” Shiro sighs and closes his eyes. “I thought about that night a lot while I was gone. There were times I kept thinking I’d make it just to have one more night like that with you.”

Keith’s ears draw back and he frowns. “Don't do that.”

“Do what?” Shiro ask, opening his confused eyes.

“Try to manipulate me.”

Shiro frowns. “I'm not — “

“It feels like you are,” Keith snaps, his tail twitching anxiously.

Shiro bites his lip and Keith looks away. He hadn't meant to offend Shiro. He knows Shiro wouldn't try to manipulate him, but the mere possibility of that happening makes him want to tear something apart and scream.

“I'm sorry,” Shiro says, and Keith wants to kick himself.

“It's fine. I —“

“No, it's not fine. I never want to make you feel like I'm trying to manipulate you,” Shiro cuts in.

Keith frowns as he picks the stuffed toy's eye with his claws. Shiro sighs and brushes his knuckles across Keith's leg. Keith starts at the sudden contact and Shiro yanks his hand back.

“Since we're talking about this stuff, I don't want you to think that I was trying to get something out of you when I told you I love you. I just“ — Shiro sighs and hangs his head — “you're my best friend and that's what matters the most. I don't want you to think that I expect anything from you.”

Keith laughs mirthlessly and shakes his head. He'd wanted for Shiro to love him for so long, and now every time that he thinks of it being something real he feels nothing. He should be jumping in joy but he's never felt more hollow.

“Keith?” Shiro's soft voice drags Keith's attention form the stuffed toy. Shiro smiles hesitantly. “Are we gonna be okay?”

Keith hesitates before nodding, and if Shiro knows Keith is not entirely sure he's being truthful, he doesn't show it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter next week. Probably around the weekend.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you've ever wondered what it looks like when I try to forcibly kick the plot to move forward.... this is it. Enjoy!

“You want to come to the meeting?” Shiro asks, a confused expression falling on his face.

Keith nods. “I could use a change of scenery.”

Shiro blinks, the confusion making way for a hopeful smile. “Okay. I'll let the others know you’ll be joining us.”

Keith watches Shiro leave, unsure of his decision to accompany the others to the upcoming Coalition meeting. It might not be smart of him to go to a meeting filled with nothing but people who hate the Galra and the Empire. Someone is bound to say something horrible about Zarkon or the Galra and Keith might not be able to stop himself from snapping at them.

But it makes Shiro happy and it might make the others think he's coming out of his shell and beginning to recover — not that Keith has anything to recover from — and that might help him get into a position where he can return to Zarkon.

A few days later they wormhole their way to a planet Keith hasn't been to before, and since he hadn't thought it smart to go to the bridge after his last visit there he doesn't see what the planet looks like from the orbit.

From ground level the planet appears rather pastel colored. Keith raises an eyebrow as he takes in the round-edged buildings and the pastel yellow grass at the edge of the light blue paved road that leads to the large, egg-white building they are heading to.

While the Paladins get excited, even reverent greetings, Keith gets confused and wary looks and harsh whispers. Keith ignores both to the best of his abilities while he subtly scans his surroundings, taking in the light green walls and the abstract paintings hanging on them, the low ceiling, the soft pink carpet covering the entire floor and the people surrounding the large, oval table that Allura is the first one to be seated on.

Shiro and the rest of their team are next to sit down, followed by the Rebellion leader. Everyone else sits down after them in no particular order. Keith remains in the sidelines with the aides and servants the Coalition members had brought with them, having declined a seat by Shiro's side by stating he wasn't comfortable taking part in the discussion itself.

It wasn't a lie, exactly. Keith’s curious about the politics and inner workings of the Coalition and he can learn about those without sitting at the table, receiving hostile and wary looks, possibly even an insult or two before someone — most likely Shiro — puts an end to it. His ears pick up the conversation easily enough from a distance and he sees everyone and their reactions to the discussion at hand, so it’s not like he’s missing anything.

While Keith heads to a nearby corner, Shiro explains to the table that Keith is a friend they rescued from the Empire and that his Galran appearance is Haggar's doing. It makes everyone spare a sympathetic look for Keith whose ears flatten as he crosses his arms and looks away. He doesn't need sympathy. There's nothing wrong with how he looks.

Thankfully Allura directs everyone's attention to more important matters soon and one by one the people at the table lose interest in Keith, though some still glance at him from time to time.

They talk about rebuilding and supplies as well as shipping and border security, and while everyone is trying to work together, there are hiccups and issues in their cooperation that Allura does her best to address.

The Galra had taken most of the import and export with them and the planets that required certain exports to survive are struggling without the Galra taking care of it for them. Some of the things the Galra had brought with them — such as medicine and technology — aren't something others can just ship to those who need them, and it's starting to cause tension between those who miss the supplies and security — from raiders and disease alike — the Galra occupation had brought and those who think no one should rely on the Galra for anything.

Keith can see both sides of the argument, and he hopes no one will ask him to share his opinion on the matter.

As the meeting progresses, everyone seems to forget Keith is there, hovering in the corner out of anyone’s immediate line of sight; everyone but the Puigians who keep giving Keith sideway glances. When the meeting is halted for a break, Keith points it out to Shiro.

“We've just liberated them, that's probably it,” Shiro replies, “they were under Galra occupation for years so you can’t expect them to just shrug seeing one again off — no offense. They were like that with the Blade too so it’s not just you.”

Keith inclines his head, but he doesn't buy it. Shiro leaves his side, throwing one last concerned glance at Keith before he joins Lance and Hunk who are talking to a tall dignitary with four arms and a head that’s balanced on a too narrow neck.

Keith smiles back at him in what he hopes is a reassuring way. He waits until Shiro stops paying attention to him before dropping the smile and scanning the room for the Puigians. There's something wrong with the way they kept eyeing him, and he wants to know what it is.

As soon as Keith spots them he heads towards the representative of the Puig — Meu, if Keith remembers correctly; an aging man who balks at the sight of Keith, like he's expecting Keith to attack him or worse. Keith corners him away from the crowd and Meu throws his hands up and shrinks into himself. “I didn't tell them anything!”

Keith stops and tilts his head, a frown slowly falling on his face. “About what?”

Meu blinks and Keith crosses his arms, his ears flattening.

“Nothing,” Meu replies a little too fast.

Keith narrows his eyes, his tail swinging slowly from side to side. “What didn't you tell them?”

Meu swallows. “You're Galra — “

“I know that,” Keith snaps before he can stop himself.

Meu flinches. “I just mean that... are you testing me?”

Keith frowns, careful to control himself this time, and shakes his head slowly. “No. I just want to know why you keep staring at me.”

“We thought you might be watching us on the Empire’s orders.” Meu glances past Keith, and Keith follows his line of sight to the Paladins chatting away with a bunch of officials. Keith's frown deepens and he bites his lip before his eyes widen in realization.

“The Galra came back?”

Meu looks ready to cry, but he nods. “Five of them, their leader said he was a prince. They said we'd regret it if we told anyone. We know what the Galra are capable of, we can't afford to anger them.”

“Can you contact them?” Keith asks and Meu's expression turns confused and wary. Keith raises his hand. “I don't want to call them here or anything. I just... I want to let them know I'm alright. I, um, I have friends in the Empire and I don't want them to start attacking people just because they don't know where I am.”

Keith bites his tongue and watches Meu closely, his ears drawing back against his will. “If I write down a message could you show it to them?”

Meu considers it, his eyes doubtful, but eventually he nods minutely. “If it will protect the innocent.”

Keith smiles at him in what he hopes is a reassuring way. “It will, I promise. I'll write a note for you and you can call the Galra and show it to them, and when they know I'm alright they won't attack anyone to get me back.”

It's a lie and Keith knows it, but he needs to do something, anything, to get back to Zarkon and getting a message to the Galra would be a start.

Meu nods and hands Keith his data pad — a circular thing with thick edges and one big button on top of it. “I can't read Galran,” he confesses, but Keith waves him off, trying to hide the relief Meu’s words fill him with.

“Just show this to them.”

Keith writes down a short message Galran in his neatest handwriting, double checking every letter and word to eliminate as many mistakes as possible. Keith knows his grammar isn’t perfect, but as long as the message makes sense he’ll be satisfied with it.

Once he’s sure the text is readable Keith signs the message and hands the data pad back to Mau. “Thanks.”

Meu doesn’t meet Keith’s eyes as he hides the data pad under the foldings of his clothes. “I'll get your message through.”

Keith sighs in relief. He considers saying something about the Galra getting angry if they ever find out the message hasn't been delivered, but Mau looks terrified enough as it is so he stays quiet.

Keith steps aside and lets Mau pass, and watches him hurry back to his own people.

Keith's done all he can to get in contact with the Galra, now he can only hope the Puigians deliver his message.

 

* * *

 

Keith doesn't realize the problem in his plan until he's lying in bed hours after they returned from the Coalition meeting.

Lotor — Keith assumes the Puigians will contact him since it had been a prince to return to their planet and Zarkon had said he only has one child — has no way of contacting him back. Keith groans and bangs his head on his pillow. He should've thought that one through, and maybe he would have if he'd had the time; now he just has to wait and hope Lotor figures something out.

Keith prays Zarkon is alright. If he survived the attack there's no way Haggar won't make sure he gets back to his feet in no time, but it's been weeks and there's been no news of Zarkon's return to the throne, or even of him being alive. At least not any news Keith has heard; he can't be sure Shiro and the others aren’t deliberately keeping him in the dark on matters concerning the Empire and Zarkon.

Keith will have to get his own news on the Empire. Somehow.

Not knowing how else to start, Keith sends a message to Rejya asking if she's heard any news of the Empire. He's half asleep by the time his pad pings.

_ Thace is on the homeworld and unable to provide news. Our other agents have nothing new. Check the intergalactic news feed. _

Keith raises an eyebrow. He hadn't thought to check the news feed, even though he has access to it. Keith sits up and wedges the pillow between his back and the wall. He gets the news feed open and scans the headlines for anything interesting, but besides the mention of the Empire losing a chunk of their territory and a vague article about unrest among the Galra that shouldn't concern anyone there's nothing that piques Keith's interest.

He groans and slides back down the bed. He needs something better than an intergalactic news feed. It's not even that reliable as a news source. Keith needs something better, ideally a person in the heart of the Empire. If he could get in touch with Marzila he could ask her what's going on; she'd be a more reliable source of information than any news feed.

Keith lifts the pad and frowns at its darkened screen. The pad isn't tuned to the Empire's frequencies and Keith doesn't know how to do that himself without someone noticing what he’s up to. Pidge might be able to figure something out, but asking for her help would lead to the others knowing he even has a pad.

Keith bangs his head on the pillow and groans. He needs to figure something else out.

 

* * *

 

“It is troubling, to say the least,” Kolivan agrees, a minute frown appearing on his face. He’d stopped by to hold their weekly debriefing since he was passing by, and no one is complaining having him there in person to hold this particular conversation- 

Shiro and Allura share a grim look.

“So he might not be dead?” Allura sighs, looking more tired than she has in ages. “This is the worst thing that could happen.”

Shiro nods. “But maybe they're just stalling.” It's a stretch and they all know it, but there has to be a reason they haven't heard anything about Zarkon since they got Keith back.

“What exactly should be happening right now?” Lance asks, his voice unusually solemn.

Kolivan crosses his arms. “By tradition the body of the Emperor is burned and the ashes are scattered in the wind of their home so that they may forever travel with the Ancient Gods. Since our old home is gone, Lotor — as his next of kin — should scatter his ashes among the remnants of Daibazaal.”

“You burn and scatter your dead to the wind?” Lance asks.

It's not relevant to their problem and Shiro is about to tell Lance so, but Kolivan beats him to speaking.

“Only the members of the Imperial family as they have served the people enough in life and they deserve their place among the Ancient Gods. Some people are burned and their ashes are scattered on our farmlands as fertilizer” — Lance and Hunk share horrified looks, and Shiro can't fault them for it — “most are left in the bone fields for animals to eat. Whatever remains of their bones after a month gets ground to dust and it is up to the family to decide if they want the remains returned to the bone fields, or if they want them scattered on the farmlands or in the winds.”

A deafening silence follows Kolivan's words, and Shiro hopes someone will break it soon.

Coran sighs in that way he sometimes does when he thinks the humans of the group are acting in a childish manner. “The Galra burial rites are a little odd, perhaps, but they’re rather practical.”

“Growing food with dead people is practical?” Hunk asks.

“It is in a desert environment,” Kolivan replies with a minute shrug.

“Are these rituals important? Is there something like a time table for these proceedings?” Shiro asks, hoping to get some useful information out of the exchange.

Kolivan inclines his head. “Placing a body in the bone fields at a hasty pace is important so that the animals will eat the flesh before it rots. The burning of the body is not quite so urgent, but we believe that the faster the life force is released from the body the better — to lessen the chances of the energy of the life force turning into a wraith.”

Pidge raises his hand. “Am I the only one who thinks that Zarkon is someone who the Galra would bury — or burn, I suppose — fast out of respect alone? I mean, if he's dead and not burning him and scattering him along the wind risks him turning into a wraith or whatever... wouldn't the Galra try to avoid that?”

“Yes,” Kolivan agrees, “which is exactly why we must be suspicious of the fact that they have not done so yet.”

As far as possibilities go, Zarkon being alive is the worst thing that might happen. If Zarkon is alive he can come back, and if he can come back he can reunite the Galra under a strong leadership again. The Coalition is relying on the Galra being barely organized and fracturing into factions under Lotor's shaky rule, and if that's taken from them they run a risk of losing everything they have fought for.

“No one tells Keith about this,” Shiro states, “he already thinks Zarkon isn't dead, if we start adding to that belief we could lose him forever.”

He gets agreeing noises and nods in response.

“We need to get in touch with Thace,” Allura says, “he's in the Galra homeworld, he's the only one who can confirm whether or not Zarkon is dead.”

Kolivan frowns. “That would be dangerous and I'm not willing to risk an agent in such a high position in the Empire's ranks. I will see what I can do, but I make no promises.”

Allura doesn't seem happy with Kolivan's answer, but she doesn't push him either. It's probably for the best; they don't need to start fights with the Blade since they are the only ones who can actually get information from the heart of the Empire and deliver them to others.

Kolivan says his goodbyes minutes later and leaves the bridge, and after a moment of hesitation Shiro hurries after him. Kolivan is intrigued enough to stop and wait for Shiro to catch up to him.

“I was hoping you could talk to Keith,” Shiro starts.

“Why would you need me to do that?” Kolivan asks.

Shiro glances away, not wanting Kolivan to see the shame in his eyes. “I know Keith's got the ears and the tail and that they show his emotions and all, but I can't read them properly and he's gotten a lot better at keeping his expressions in check.”

Kolivan stays silent for a long time, considering Shiro's words. “What do you need to know?”

Shiro shrugs. “Just that he's fine.”

Kolivan inclines his head. “I will arrange the time for it later. Right now I have other, more urgent matters to that demand my attention. I'll talk to him when I join you again in four days time.”

Shiro nods. It's good enough for him. “Thank you.”

“I would suggest that you don't push him too much in the meantime,” Kolivan says before walking away from Shiro.

Shiro watches him go, wondering what he's going to do in the four days it will take for Kolivan to return and talk to Keith. He supposes he could check if Allura needs any help with her training, be it with her combat skills or her magic. She favors Lance's help with her magic training, but perhaps Shiro can be of some use to her.

Shiro waits until the rest of their team has left before approaching Allura with his question.

“Thank you, but I don't know if there's anything I need help with anymore,” she replies with a sigh.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “You figured it all out?”

Allura's shoulders slump. “Unfortunately no; I don’t seem to be able to use my magic at all, or at least not very well.”

Shiro frowns. “What do you mean? You did great against Zarkon, you struck him down.”

Allura looks away and crosses her arms. “I don't know how I did that. I was angry and there was all the quintessence in the air and the druids were attacking us, and somehow I managed to form strong enough blast to take him down. I haven't been able to do that since, and I wasn't able to do anything like that since the quintessence refining facility. All I can manage is a weak glimmer that lasts for a tick or two at most.”

Shiro has no explanation or advice to offer her and he hates it. “You'll figure it out. Just remember we're all here to help you.”

Allura smiles, but there's a sadness to it, and Shiro doesn’t know what to do about it.

 

* * *

 

The call from the Puigians comes as a surprise.

Lotor hurries to put his armor back on while Acxa leaves his room to return to the bridge. Lotor barely notices her absence, his mind racing with possibilities; if the Puigians dare to bother him at such a late quarter, they must have something important to tell him.

Lotor straightens his hair as he strides out of the door and to the bridge of his ship. Haggar had opposed to him leaving the heart of the Empire and Draizagal, but Lotor had insisted on it; he hasn't needed the Empire to do his bidding for decafebes, and he doesn't need it now, no matter what the Witch thinks. His father had made sure Lotor knows how to run an Empire, and though he had stopped instructing Lotor on the matter after... their disagreement, Lotor has enough knowledge on the matter to know he has everything handled.

Still, at Haggar's insistence, he had left the Empire’s military with orders to protect the Central Command and their homeworld, as well as to protect their territories as they have always done. Lotor finds their inability to do anything without orders infuriating, but it is what Father has made them to be — followers in need of a leader, nothing more. Their need for strong leadership kept them from challenging Father for the throne; it keeps them dependent on him and his guidance.

Lotor takes a deep breath and straightens up, fixing a carefully polite smile on his face before entering the bridge. “I am curious as to why you have called me at such a late varga.”

The Puigian flinches. Lotor does not recall his name, but he's fairly certain he saw the aging man with the Leader of the Puiginas when they had paid a visit to them a few weeks ago. “It's just that...” The man stops to swallow and Lotor interlaces his fingers behind his back.

“Yes?”

The Puigian's eyes dart around and he lifts a data pad in front of his face. Lotor narrows his eyes, taking in the scribbled Galran text on it. The handwriting is far from perfect, but it's readable, and Lotor has to fight back the shock that chills his insides.

_ Where is Zarkon? _

_ Tell Haggar it broke. She knows what it means. _

_ Come get me maybe. _

—  _ Keith _

“Thank you,” Lotor says, careful to keep his voice nonchalant, “you have been most helpful.”

The Puigian lowers the pad and bows while Ezor cuts the transmission. The silence hangs heavy in the air, and Lotor tries to come up with the best way of dealing with the situation.

“What broke?” Zethrid asks, turning her gaze from the screen to Lotor, along with the rest of his generals.

Lotor pretends he doesn't care. “It is of no importance. Just make sure the Witch gets the message.”

He turns around and heads towards the doors. He needs to think. He needs to come up with a plan of some kind to deal with Keith.

Should he go and fetch him? It would come with its risks, one of which would be Voltron hunting them to get Keith back as they had done when his father had captured Keith, but it would also mean his father might look at him in a more favorable light for returning Keith to his side, if only for a moment.

Lotor sighs. He does not know what it is about Keith that his father had seen, that had enchanted him so deeply. Why had he kept someone so dangerous so close to him? Tried to take him to Draizagal of all places? He should have thrown Keith into a deep hole in some faraway region of space and forgotten about him. That would have been the smart thing to do.

But no, his father had grown fond of Keith, and now he is gone and the Empire is falling apart, all because of a moment of carelessness — of infatuation, really; something Lotor had thought his father incapable of before. 

As Lotor had suspected, he has a private call waiting for him the moment he enters his quarters. He sighs as he sits by his desk and plasters a polite smile on his face before accepting the call.

“When did you get the message?” Haggar asks the second the connection is established.

“Just now. I have been considering the possibility of retrieving Keith,” Lotor replies.

“Don't,” Haggar says.

Lotor frowns. “Why not? He is a Galra and Father's lover, he should be by Father’s side and with his own kind.”

“He should be where he is most useful to us,” Haggar counters, “or are you so dumb you cannot see the benefits of having someone loyal to your father at the heart of our enemy forces?”

Lotor grits his teeth and scowls.

“He is with Voltron. He will know their every move and he can help us from inside if we just establish a line of communication with him,” Haggar continues.

“I have considered that,” Lotor lies. He hadn't gotten that far in his plotting yet, and he hates that she has beat him to it. “But you are assuming he would be willing to betray his friends.”

“Just do the smart thing and find a way to communicate with Keith. I will ensure his willingness to assist us,” Haggar replies and cuts the transmission.

Lotor glares at the darkened screen.  _ He _ is supposed to be the one running the Empire, not Haggar. For a moment Lotor considers getting Keith back just to spite Haggar, but he cannot deny the wisdom of her plan.

Grudgingly, Lotor begins to think of ways to get in touch with Keith without raising any alarms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm rather fond of the worldbuilding in this one tbh. It was a lot of fun to come up with.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	7. Chapter 7

Keith clearly doesn't buy Shiro's explanation as to why Kolivan is there interrogating him on trivial things. Shiro smiles, awkward and sheepish, but it only gets Keith to narrow his eyes as he takes the most threatening sip of tea Shiro has ever seen anyone take.

“Are you adjusting well?” Kolivan asks, perfectly casual.

Keith's ears twitch. “Why do you ask?”

“Because your wellbeing matters to us,” Kolivan replies.

He's a lot better at handling Keith that Shiro thought, and Shiro wonders if he should be asking for pointers.

“I'm fine,” Keith says, a suspicious frown on his face.

Shiro glances between Kolivan and Keith, unsure if he should say something or keep quiet.

Kolivan remains unfazed by Keith's attitude. “There is one thing we have wondered about.”

Keith sets his cup on the table and tilts his head.

“How did the Empire track you?”

Shiro sits up. That's the question no one has dared to ask Keith, and Keith hasn't volunteered an explanation. Shiro watches intently as Keith's tail wraps around the leg of his chair and his ears twitch back.

Keith's expression remains neutral and his eyes are fixed on his teacup. “I don't know.”

Shiro glances at Kolivan, but his expression is just as unreadable as Keith's. Shiro fights the urge to sigh and frowns at his tea instead.

“Would you like to join the Blade in our annual game day?” Kolivan asks out of the blue, catching both Keith and Shiro off guard.

Keith bites his lips, his eyes darting around the kitchen before settling on Kolivan again. What's a game day?”

Kolivan cocks his head. “It's something we do for fun and for exercise. Those of us who are able come together, and we engage in combat in two to five teams, depending on how many of us are present. The teams with most victors will then challenge each other until we have a winner.”

Keith sighs. “I don't know.”

“Thace is most likely going to join us. He sent a message through the Empire's official channels to one of our other agents saying he intends to request for a few days off. Benefits of being a commander wounded in duty, as I have understood it,” Kolivan replies.

Keith's ears flatten as his expression turns dark. “Only if I get to fight Thace.”

Kolivan inclines his head. “That can be arranged.”

Keith nods and Kolivan turns his attention to Shiro. “You are free to join us as well, but I must warn you, if you wish to take part in the games you will have to be ready to handle the Galra style of combat.”

Shiro smiles and nods. “I'll let the others know about it.”

Kolivan waits until Keith and Shiro have finished their teas before standing and heading to the doors. Shiro and Keith follow him out of the room, but while Shiro follows Kolivan, Keith heads to the other direction.

Shiro waits until Keith is out of earshot before turning to Kolivan. “Do you think it's smart to let him fight Thace?”

“I want to see what he'll do when faced with Thace in such an intense situation,” Kolivan replies.

Shiro frowns. “Why?”

Kolivan's expression hardens. “Because he is not being truthful.”

Shiro slows down, just for a second before hurrying back to Kolivan’s side. “What do you mean?”

Kolivan glances at Shiro, a severe frown on his face. “He knows how the Empire tracked him. He may be able to control his expression better, but his ears and tail give him away. You must learn to read them; as he has no control over their movements, they give out his moods.”

Shiro's eyes widen in surprise. Keith knows how Zarkon had tracked him and he hasn't told anyone? Why would he do that? Shiro casts his gaze to the floor and walks silently beside Kolivan as they head to the hangar where Kolivan's shuttle waits for him.

Once Kolivan has departed, Shiro lets his feet take him to Keith's door. Shiro hesitates before knocking and when he gets no reply he considers just walking away, but decides against it. He opens the door and pokes his head through it, offering Keith a hesitant smile. When Keith merely pushes himself up to sit on the bed and raises a questioning eyebrow at the sight of Shiro, he steps through the door and heads to the desk and pulls the chair out from under it.

“So,” Shiro starts, “do you want to spar with me? We could practice for the Blade thing.”

Keith pulls his legs up to his chest. “I'd rather not.”

Shiro studies Keith for a moment before sighing. “Look, Keith, I get it. I know that the Galra trained you, and I get if you don't want the others to see what you’ve learned, but this is me.”

Keith looks away.

“I'm not too keen on the others knowing all the stuff I learned in the Arena,” Shiro admits as he casts his eyes to the ground.

“It's not just that I learned new stuff,” Keith says quietly, “it's that I got used to training like them.”

Shiro looks up. “What do you mean?”

Keith laughs mirthlessly. “The Galra don't exactly hold back when they train. You get cuts and bruises and broken bones out of it. I don't know how to go back to watching my strength because someone can't take a punch.”

“You can do it if you try,” Shiro assures him.

Keith levels him with a grim stare. “I don't know if I want to.”

Shiro swallows, not knowing how to respond to that. It's not like he can force Keith to not act like a Galra, and if he were to suggest Keith try to spar like he used to he risks alienating Keith further and that's not something Shiro wants. He'd rather have Keith with more Galran habits than no Keith at all.

“Well, if you want a sparring partner I think I can handle you,” Shiro says, “and there's always the Gladiator.”

Keith shrugs. “So you’ve told me.”

Shiro bites his tongue and fights back a frown. It's not the end of the world if Keith's not feeling like talking.

Even if it sometimes feels like it.

 

* * *

 

The call from the Puigians comes as a surprise, but Shiro still has Allura open a wormhole near Puig in a matter of minutes. They're out in their Lion's and speeding towards the planet even faster. Coran stays behind to monitor the situation and offer back up if needed, and Shiro's half tempted to lock Keith in his room just to keep him from finding out what's going on.

They have avoided bringing Keith near the Galra out of concern for how Keith might react. Maybe he'll try to take a shuttle and run back to the Galra. Maybe he'll snap and fire the Castleship's weapons at them. Maybe he'll freeze or break down.

Whatever Keith’s reaction, Shiro would rather not find out what would happen just yet.

Coran promises to keep Keith safely onboard the ship and out of trouble, and it's the only reason Shiro manages to push his worries aside as he leads the team towards the planet.

“Did they say where the Galra are?” Shiro asks as they near the surface.

“No. Just that they came back and took the newly appointed leaders and went in different directions,” Allura replies, “and they said they will kill the leaders in... well, now in less than a varga unless the Puigians leave the Coalition and return to the Empire.”

Shiro sighs. They need more time to come up with a plan, but they can't afford to risk the lives of the leaders.

“Am I the only one who feels like this is a trap?” Lance asks.

“No, but we have to save the hostages,” Shiro says, “just keep your eyes open and be careful.”

Shiro decides they each have to go after one of the Galra in order to save all the hostages, and though he's sure they are playing right into the Galra's hand, he doesn't know what else to do. The others grudgingly agree with his decision, not seeing a better way out of the situation in such a short notice.

“Keep your comms open and call for help the second it seems like you need it. And remember, this is most likely a trap so be ready for anything.” Shiro levels his team with a serious look, getting solemn nods in return.

Shiro heads after who the distressed Puigians say was the leader of the group. He tracks the Galra into the still destroyed part of the city, through the ruins of the buildings and the eerily quiet streets. Shiro hopes the faint ashy scent lingering in the air is his just imagination.

After a lot of searching, Shiro finds the Puigian leader tied up and hopefully unconscious on the steps if the former state library — a large, dome roofed building when it was still standing, now crumbling to bits with one side of the building scattered across the ground around Shiro and the roof having collapsed with singed slashes coloring the once egg-white stone of the still standing walls.

Shiro takes two fast steps before remembering he's walking into a trap and stilling. He frowns, scanning the area for the Galra that had kidnapped the Puigian, but all he sees are crumbling buildings painted pink by the setting sun. There's nothing, not a shifting shadow or a rustle, but the hairs on the back of Shiro's neck still stand on edge and a chill runs down his spine.

He's being watched.

Shiro takes in a slow breath and tries not to think of being back in the Arena, facing one of the other prisoners or one of Haggar's monsters. He fights back the urge to remove his helmet; it won't help him hear or see any better, even if the helmet feels cramped all of the sudden.

The Puigian hasn't moved at all and Shiro prays he's just unconscious. Shiro grinds his teeth together and takes a step forward, even if it is dangerous. He stops and listens, scanning the area for anything out of the ordinary, but nothing catches his eye. He takes a step forward, then another, the anxiety growing in him making him want to run and grab the Puigian before getting out of that place.

Four more steps, but nothing happens. Shiro takes a deep breath and calms his mind before taking another step.

The air shifts and Shiro ducks and rolls out of the way, his Galran arm flaring to life a second later than he expected. Shiro swirls around, coming face to face with his assailant and a sword struck on the ground where Shiro just was. The Galra's armor makes Shiro stop for a moment; it's got the same insignia as Lotor's armor had on the video. Shiro stares a second too long and the Galra takes the opportunity to charge at him.

Shiro dodges — barely — and gets out of the way. The Galra turns and observes Shiro. The darkened visor of his helmet hides his expression, but Shiro still tenses under his gaze.

The Galra lunges at Shiro again. Shiro dodges the first strike and stops the second one with his arm, the force of it making his entire body reverberate. Shiro grits his teeth and kicks the Galra's knee as hard as he can without losing his balance. The Galra jumps back and Shiro takes the opportunity to put some distance between them.

Shiro pants, glancing over the Galra's shoulder at the still form of the Puigian. The Galra's stance shifts, and Shiro anticipates an attack that never comes. They stand there, studying each other for a solid minute before Shiro scowls. The Galra is between him and the Puigian, and Shiro needs to get past him.

But the Galra isn't moving, he's just standing there, his pose almost relaxed, waiting.

So Shiro lunges at him with all of his speed, aiming a blow to his opponent's side, but he misses. Shiro stumbles, blinking as he swirls around to face the Galra who had stepped out of his way.

Shiro scowls and goes for another strike. The Galra dodges again.

He's toying with Shiro and Shiro knows it, but he also knows he has to deal with the threat if he wants to help the Puigian. Shiro gets as close to the Galra as he can and slices at him with his Galran hand, but the Galra dances around Shiro, stepping behind him.

Shiro frowns and turns around, but the Galra moves with him. Shiro takes a step to the side, the Galra following his movements perfectly and staying behind his back.

Shiro grits his teeth and stills. The Galra does the same. They stand there for a minute, neither one of them moving. The air grows heavy to breathe, every sound, every minute shift in the air becoming heightened.

One of them has to move, and with every passing second it becomes clear to Shiro that the Galra won’t be the one to make the first move. There’s a patience to him — a dangerous, natural patience that tells Shiro he can stand there until the sun goes down and rises again in the morning if need be.

It’s the same kind of patience Zarkon had shown when Shiro had been on the Arena, waiting for him to pass judgment on whether or not Shiro should kill his opponent once and for all. The same kind of patience Zarkon had radiated the one time Shiro had actually been near him. He’d been strapped to Haggar’s table and Zarkon had barely acknowledged his existence, but Shiro had known, deep in his bones that Zarkon wasn’t dangerous because he was the Emperor, he was dangerous because of what kind of a person he was; because of the patience and the calculative coldness, and the disregard he had for the suffering for others.

Shiro hadn’t known he could be more terrified than he’d already been before that moment. He bites his tongue almost hard enough to taste blood and forces the memory of the chilling fear he’d felt near Zarkon back, and focuses on his current situation instead.

One of them has to do something.

A moment of stillness passes, and Shiro sees the situation he’s in with perfect clarity. He takes a calming breath and drives his elbow back and into the Galra’s side as hard as he can.

The Galra starts and bolts from Shiro’s reach, but Shiro’s elbow still catches his side. Shiro smirks; he can hit the Galra and now they both know it.

Shiro swirls around and tries to grab the Galra’s arm to keep him still for long enough for Shiro to land a punch. The Galra anticipates it and drives his fist into Shiro’s jaw hard enough to knock his helmet off and send him sprawling on the ground.

Shiro grunts, his whole face throbbing. He blinks the blurriness from his eyes as he pushes himself up. He can’t stay on the ground, he can’t leave himself a target like that. The Galra is on Shiro before he can fully regain his footing and he slams Shiro back on the ground, holding him there with his weight.

As soon as he’s able to draw breath into his lungs again, Shiro swings his Galran arm back in hopes of making his opponent dodge enough for Shiro to shove him off. The Galra leans back like Shiro hoped, but he grabs Shiro’s arm and twists it back until Shiro has to bite his tongue to keep himself from screaming.

Something thin and sharp pierces Shiro’s arm, digging deep into the wires and circuits, sending jolts of pain shooting through Shiro’s arm and shoulder. Shiro screams then, unable to stop himself. It’s like his arm is being ripped from its socket. Pain like he hasn’t felt since being strapped on Haggar’s table sears through his body, his every nerve on fire.

Slowly, the pain fades, leaving Shiro panting and drained on the ground. The weight lifts from his back, but Shiro barely registers it. He pulls his arm to his chest and curls around it, the arm unnaturally stiff and his body shaking from the waves of pain. Shiro might throw up.

Heaving a shuddering breath, Shiro forces himself to look up. The Galra observes him with a slight tilt of his head and Shiro does his best to glare back.

Pidge chooses that moment to jump on the Galra’s shoulders and take a hold of his head.

Shiro’s stares as Pidge struggles with the Galra, his wide eyes and his mouth hanging open. Pidge drives her bayard into the Galra’s helmet at the same moment the Galra grabs her and throws her to the ground.

Pidge grunts as she hits the ground, but she recovers fast and puts herself between Shiro and the Galra. But the Galra isn’t attacking them. Pidge had managed to damage his helmet and he’s busy putting a few steps between them.

“You okay?” Pidge asks, sparing Shiro a brief glance.

Shiro grits his teeth and forces himself to sit up. “Never better.” It’s a lie and they both know it. Shiro’s arm is stiff and it won’t power up, but at least the pain is slowly subsiding. “Be careful.”

Pidge nods.

The Galra takes another step back before reaching for his helmet, taking it it off and dropping it to the ground. Pidge lets out a small alarmed noise and Shiro can’t blame her for it.

Lotor ĕ the Emperor Pro Tem of the Galra, is staring at them with something like enraged amusement.

Shiro pulls Pidge out of the way when Lotor charges at them, his sword slicing the air where Pidge’s head was just a second ago. Shiro rolls them out of Lotor’s way and propels Pidge to her feet before sprinting after her.

They stop at a safe distance and turn to face Lotor who hasn’t moved from his spot. Shiro stays between him and Pidge, trying to gauge Lotor’s intentions from his expression.

“What do you want?” Shiro grits from between his teeth, doing his best to keep his voice level.

Lotor tilts his head. “I don’t want anything.”

Shiro shares a glance with Pidge. “That’s hard to believe.”

A polite smile spreads on Lotor’s lips. “Perhaps I was curious about you.”

“Why?” Shiro counters.

“Not many people can steal from my father and survive as long as you have,” Lotor replies a little too casually.

“We didn’t steal anything,” Shiro snaps, “Keith’s not property.”

Lotor’s smile gives nothing of his thoughts away as he studies Shiro. “I didn’t say he’s property, but he is my father’s and the sooner you return him to us the better.”

Shiro’s expression darkens. “Keith doesn’t belong to anyone. And we know Zarkon’s dead.”

“Is that so?” Lotor’s smile gets an edge Shiro can’t read.

“What do you mean?” Pidge cuts in before Shiro can do more than open his mouth.

Lotor glances around, as if considering his answer. “I was unaware the Empire had made a statement on Father’s condition.”

Shiro resists the urge to frown, especially when Pidge spares him a concerned glance.

Lotor tenses and his ears tilt back, and after a few seconds Shiro hears the hum of an engine. Another few seconds later a Galra riding what Shiro can only compare to the hover bikes of Earth, but more streamlined and somehow distinctively Galran crashes into the clearing. The bike is a dark blue thing with purple and red details, flying a few inches above the ground. The rider doesn’t lift her head from behind the transparent screen with fast moving symbols and charts.

The bike barely slows down as it rounds the clearing. Lotor spares Shiro and Pidge one last look before dashing towards the bike and jumping on it, and the bike speeds away with him, leaving Shiro and Pidge staring after them.

 

* * *

 

Keith makes his way to the medical bay where the team had headed to after returning from their mission. Coran had been courteous enough to let him know that dinner would be late, and Keith has nothing better to do than go see who got hurt.

No one’s in a healing pod when Keith slips into the room, and Keith takes that as a good sign. Lance seems to be off worst, bleeding from his temple and holding his arm at an awkward angle, slumped on an examination table while Coran patches him up.

Allura is sitting in a corner holding a mug, her eyes slightly unfocused.

Hunk and Pidge are gathered around Shiro, and though Pidge seems uninjured, Hunk’s posture isn’t quite normal. They’re twisting and turning Shiro’s Galran arm, talking quietly among themselves.

Keith wanders to them. “What happened?”

Shiro sighs. “Lotor and his team” — Keith suppresses a flinch and bites his lip as he wraps his arms around himself — “they forced us to separate.”

Keith holds himself tighter and nods towards Allura. “What happened to her?”

Shiro glances over his shoulder at her. “Concussion. Coran says she’ll be fine in a moment.”

“And you?”

Shiro meets Keith’s eyes, seeming exhausted all of the sudden. “He did something to my arm — I’ll be fine, it’s just a little stiff.”

Keith frowns and shuts his mouth, trusting Pidge and Hunk can fix the damage. Shiro offers Keith a brave smile, but Keith can’t find it in him to return it. Shiro drops his smile seconds later and his eyes drift back to what Pidge and Hunk are doing.

They’ve hooked the arm up to the ships computers, and while Pidge turns her attention to the screen, Hunk focuses on the damage done to the arm.

The small hole doesn’t look too bad to Keith’s eye, but he knows that the arm is a delicate piece of machinery and that the damage inside it could be severe. Keith stays by Shiro’s side, observing Hunk and Pidge work on the arm. Shiro spares him a grateful look that Keith pretends he doesn’t notice.

Pidge hums thoughtfully. “There seems to be some kind of a — “

A faint pulse emanates from Shiro’s arm, making him scream and sending a shock wave across the room that shakes the computers Pidge has set up, the examination table, and everything else not bolted to the floor. A small bottle Coran had left on the edge of a table falls to the ground and shatters, but it’s the only casualty of the shock wave.

A few seconds later a low emergency light comes on.

Keith doesn’t pay attention to any of it. Shiro’s gripping his hand painfully, gasping for breath and trying not to double over from the pain he must feel. Keith rubs his back soothingly. “You okay?”

Shiro nods. “Yeah, it passed. I’ll be fine. I’ve had worse.”

Keith frowns and turns his eyes to Hunk and Pidge. Hunk shrugs. “I don’t know what happened.” He sounds distressed enough for the edge of Keith’s anger to dull.

“I think they put some kind of a programming into your arm,” Pidge says, “I detected something odd in the code but the pulse shut everything off so I can’t tell you what it was. Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault,” Shiro assures her.

Coran, Lance and Allura join them. “I think I should go see if the rest of the ship is affected,” Coran says.

“I’ll come with you,” Pidge says.

Coran nods. “Everyone else should go rest.”

“I’ll get Allura to her room,” Lance promises, only to get a frown from Allura.

“I don’t need help,” she insists, even as she wobbles on her feet.

Lance raises a hand, careful to keep his injured one from moving. “I just thought I’d walk with you.”

Allura’s expression softens and she nods. “Alright.”

Keith’s eyes shift between the two, wondering what happened to them as they’re the ones hurt worst. Lance notices his staring, scowling for a moment before his eyes flicker to Shiro and he looks away, chastised all of the sudden. Keith throws Shiro a dirty look over his shoulder.

“I fell,” Lance mutters, “I was in a deadly sniper battle and I fell from my spot.”

“I had to save him,” Allura cuts in.

Keith nods, satisfied with the explanation though he hates that he most likely got it only because Shiro glared at the two of them. That’s not how Keith wants to interact with people, he doesn’t need anyone to fight his battles for him. If Shiro wasn’t hurt Keith would tell him as much.

After Coran has checked over everyone and Hunk is sure he can’t do anything about Shiro’s arm until they have power, Keith walks towards his room with Shiro by his side. It’s more because their rooms are nearly side by side than Keith intentionally wanting to walk with Shiro, but they fall in step easily and neither of them says anything about the hint of tension lingering between them.

The darkness of the hallways does nothing to ease the atmosphere.

They reach Shiro’s door first and Keith stops out of a long forgotten habit that makes walking away seem wrong. Shiro shuffles on his spot, glancing at the door as if considering bolting to the safety of his room.

“Do you want to come in?” Shiro asks.

Keith bites his lip and looks away. How is he supposed to say no when Shiro is hurting?

“You don’t have to,” Shiro assures him, but Keith hears the defeat in his voice. “I just thought... it’s not important.”

Keith sighs. “If you want me to keep you company I —“

“No, Keith, if you want to be alone then go. I’m just gonna go to sleep anyways.” Shiro smiles in that reassuring way that usually puts Keith at ease. “It’s okay.”

Keith shakes his head and Shiro takes his arm. “Keith, listen. I’ve already upset you by bringing you here, and” — Shiro bites his lip — “I know Zarkon meant a lot to you and we took him from you. And I dumped my feelings on you when we both know it wasn’t what you wanted to hear.” Shiro smiles ruefully. “I’m sorry about that. I really am.”

“It’s fine,” Keith says.

Shiro shakes his head. “No, it’s not. And that wasn’t how I wanted to tell you anyways. I don’t even know if I wanted to tell you.”

Keith frowns. “What do you mean?”

“I changed our relationship and I didn’t want to do that.” Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I just wanted my best friend back.”

Keith’s heart breaks, just a little. “You could’ve just asked to see me. I could’ve talked Zarkon into letting us meet or call each other every now and again — no, I could’ve done that.”

Shiro looks doubtful, but he shuts his mouth.

“You didn’t have to take me from the one place I could be myself from,” Keith finishes, then sighs. “But I did miss you, and you’re still my friend. I don’t know if there’s anything that’ll ever change that.”

Shiro smiles, bright and hopeful, and Keith doesn’t fight the small smile tugging at his own lips. Shiro starts, as if intending to take a step closer to Keith but thinking better of it. Instead he reaches out, slow and hesitant in his movements, and touches Keith’s wrist gently. Keith turns his hand, and Shiro takes it, gripping Keith’s hand in his own, his skin warm and a little clammy against Keith’s.

When Shiro tugs Keith’s hand minutely, Keith bridges the two steps between them and lets Shiro pull him into a tight hug. Shiro’s Galran arm doesn’t move well enough for Shiro to properly wrap it around Keith, but he tries, and Keith pretends he doesn’t notice the stiffness of the arm.

Shiro buries his hand in Keith’s hair and his face in Keith’s neck, and for a moment Keith is grateful he’s as tall as Shiro now so that it’s easier for Shiro to do so.

Keith’s ear twitches, the brush of Shiro’s hair against it making it itch.

After a minute, Shiro pulls back. He huffs a quiet laugh and looks down. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Keith replies.

Shiro meets Keith’s eyes briefly before motioning at the door of his room. “I need to go rest so...”

Keith nods. “Yeah, okay.” He takes a step back and starts to turn, but stops halfway through. “I... sleep well.”

“You too,” Shiro replies before disappearing into his room.

Keith watches the door close before bolting into his own room. He leans against the door when it closes and groans. If he could, he’d wring Lotor’s neck for hurting Shiro the way he did. Zarkon’s son or not, no one has the right to do that to Shiro.

Keith groans again and bangs his head against the door. He’s about to bang his head again when the pad he’d hidden under his pillow in his haste to leave his room catches his eye. The low, pinkish purple light blinking in the top corner of the screen is something Keith recognizes, but it’s not something he ever expected to see on his own pad.

For some reason, he has a message waiting for him.

Keith blinks slowly, his shock turning into confusion. He inches closer to the bed and sits on the edge of it before pulling the pad out. He holds his breath as he lights the screen up, a frown appearing on his face at the ID blinking on the screen he doesn’t recognize.

Rejya had added her own and Kolivan’s information to Keith’s contacts, listing them by their names, so the strange ID on Keith’s screen is both intriguing and confusing.

Hesitantly, Keith taps his claw against the screen, taps in the code he’d added to keep anyone from accessing the pad, and brings up the strange ID. He stares at it for a few long seconds before shuffling back the bed until his back is pressed against the wall.

Keith takes a deep, steadying breath and taps the ID. Only a single word message pops up.

_ Call. _

Keith swallows, his ears flattening against his head as his tail beats against the bed, and he pulls his legs up. He taps his claw gently against the small diamond shape next to the ID, and holds the pad against his knees.

It takes mere seconds for the call to connect, and Keith comes face to face with Haggar. She studies Keith closely while Keith tires to process the situation.

Haggar lifts a pad with Keith’s message on it. “What do you mean it broke?”

The harshness of her voice makes Keith wince, but at least it snaps him out of his shocked state. “Zarkon tried to find me and something happened. Shiro said Allura struck him with her magic — I don’t know if it’s the same kind of magic you guys use — and it was like... like a cable got frayed and now I can’t feel him. I tried to reach the bond even from the Black Lion because she’s the one who got us stuck together in the first place and there’s nothing there anymore.”

Haggar frowns. “Did you actually feel the bond break?”

Keith opens his mouth, but stops to consider his answer. “I got knocked out. I felt the fraying and I  _ know _ it broke. Even when he completely shut me out I could sense it was there, now there’s nothing.”

Haggar’s frown deepens. “But you never felt the bond break completely?”

Keith sighs, his ears twitching in annoyance. “Not really, just the fraying.”

Haggar hums, her gaze drifting down to her pad. Keith swallows and takes a shaky breath. “Tell me he’s alive.”

Haggar stills at Keith’s faint voice. She doesn’t meet Keith’s eyes as she answers, “it depends on your definition of ‘alive’.”

Keith’s breath catches in his throat as the world disappears from around him. Haggar says something, but her voice is distant and Keith can’t make out her words. His head is too light and he can’t feel his limbs.

“ _ Keith! _ ” Haggar’s voice pierces through the haze clouding Keith’s mind. His eyes snap to the screen of his pad. Keith blinks, surprised by the wetness clinging to his lashes and running down his burning cheeks. His jaw hurts and he’s shaking and the world around him is out of focus, but at least it’s there again.

“You must breathe,” Haggar orders, her stern voice the only tangible thing in that moment.

Keith does his best to follow her order, drawing in a shuddering breath and letting it out slowly, repeating the process until his heart stops hammering so fast.

“Listen.” Haggar waits until Keith’s eyes focus on her. “I will bring him back to us. You have to be patient.”

Keith takes a shaky breath and nods minutely. “Can you come get me? I should be with him.”

Haggar shakes her head. “No, you wouldn’t be safe here at the moment, and I do not have the time or the resources to guard you” — she raises a hand to silence Keith — “not to mention you are more useful where you are.”

“What do you mean?”

“You can observe the Princess’s magic and tell me about it, so that I can help the Emperor. And you are in an ideal position to keep Lotor safe.”

Keith frowns, not understanding her meaning. Haggar  sighs. “You are with the people who wish to bring the Empire down. Lotor is the Emperor Pro Tem, and stupid enough not to stay in the heart of the Empire where he would be safest. He is also Zarkon’s only child. How do you think he would react if he returned only to find out his son has died in the hands of your friends?”

Keith leans back. “Shit.”

“Exactly,” Haggar says.

“But what do you expect me to do about it?”

“Keep me informed of what is going on,” Haggar replies.

Keith scoffs. “I’m not helping you to hurt my friends.”

“Then just tell me if they are intending to harm Lotor in any way,” Haggar says immediately.

Keith bites his lip, unsure if he should agree to her terms. On one hand, he doesn’t want to be the reason Zarkon’s only child dies — he’s already caused Zarkon to be hurt — but he doesn’t want to betray his friends either.

“Lotor did something to Shiro’s arm,” Keith starts, unsure of how to continue.

“If you can get the arm scanned and show the results to me, I can tell you what’s wrong with it,” Haggar offers.

“And how would I explain knowing that away?” Keith asks, sure that Haggar won’t have an answer to him.

Haggar tilts her head. “You worked with the maintenance team. You could tell them you worked with the broken sentries and that is how you know about Galra prosthetics.”

Keith considers it, then sighs. “I won’t help you hurt anyone, but I’ll let you know if Lotor’s life is in any immediate danger if you tell Lotor not to hurt Shiro like that again and help me with Shiro’s arm.”

Haggar inclines her head. “That is acceptable. And the Princess’s magic?”

Keith purses his lips. “I’ll need to figure out how I’ll go about learning more about that.”

“See that you do,” Haggar says, “it might be the key to helping Zarkon.”

Keith nods, his expression solemn. A thought crosses his mind, and he bites his lip. “What happened to Haala?”

“We managed to save his life, though barely. I had the druids prioritize his care. He is currently recovering with his family,” Haggar replies.

Keith lets out a sigh of relief, some of the heaviness that has haunted him since he returned to the Castleship leaving him.

“We also rescued your Lieutenant friend as well as Thace from the wreckage,” Haggar adds, instantly ruining Keith’s mood. She doesn’t miss the darkness falling over his expression.

“I need you to do something for me,” Keith says, his voice matching his expression.

Haggar frowns. “What is it?”

“Thace is going to ask you for leave in a few days. I need you to grant it to him,” Keith says, his tail thumping against the bed.

Haggar frowns. “I’m not sure I follow.”

Keith takes a deep breath, trying to contain the simmering rage inside him. There’s a moment during which he hesitates, but he pushes his uncertainty aside quickly, reminding himself that Thace is the reason that Zarkon is hurt and Keith is not with the Empire anymore.

He meets Haggar’s eyes, his ears turned back and his jaw set in determination. “Thace told Voltron where to find us. He’s working with the Blade of Marmora, and I need him to be at the meeting they’re holding in a few weeks so that I can kill him myself.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be taking a little time off updating this because I don't want to take time off from writing to edit. There's too much stuff going on with the fic and I want to see it through without interruptions, so there won't be a new chapter for at least a week.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post a piece of art to go with this but unfortunately my arm is busted and I can't hold a pen so I couldn't finish the piece. Though if I can get a hold of a pen soon I might put some colors down and post it anyways. We'll see,

Getting the others to scan Shiro’s arm isn’t hard, as it’s the first thing Pidge and Hunk want to do the moment the power returns to the ship. Justifying giving Keith access to the results is a little more difficult, but Keith stumbles through an explanation about working with broken sentries on a few occasions, and it’s enough for Shiro to tell Pidge to let Keith take a look at the scan results.

Keith sends the results to Haggar the second he’s alone in his room, and waits anxiously for her reply that doesn’t come. It shouldn’t surprise Keith; Haggar had said she has a lot of things demanding her attention — on top of caring for Zarkon — and Shiro’s broken arm isn’t a priority to her.

Frustrated, Keith heads to the training deck, moving quietly in the dead of night.

Fighting the Gladiator is not nearly as satisfying fighting Marzila, and it does nothing to ease Keith’s mood. He lasts longer against the Gladiator than he ever did — even if he’s using a staff instead of his preferred sword — but eventually he grows tired of fighting it. He’d prefer a living sparring partner, but he’s not comfortable asking anyone to take him on.

“Can’t sleep?”

Keith spins around at the sound of Shiro’s cautious voice, his eyes wide and his ears drawn back. Keith takes a slow, deep breath and forces himself to relax. “No.”

“Me neither,” Shiro replies, hesitating before taking a step towards Keith. “Do you want to — “

“No.”

Shiro’s jaw snaps shut and Keith looks away. The silence stretches, growing oppressive, like breaking it would bring on something horrible that neither of them would survive. Keith glances around the room that’s too big and empty and almost cold all of the sudden, as if the ship itself wants Keith to leave.

“I’ve told you I know what it’s like to not want to let others see what you’ve learned,” Shiro starts, soft and hesitant.

Keith wraps his arms around himself and bites his lip, his shoulders drawn up and his ears flat against his head as his tail twitches from side to side. Shiro bridges the distance between them and touches Keith’s elbow gently. “What I’m trying to say is that I get if you’re not comfortable letting the others see what you’ve learned, but if you want to spar with someone, I won’t judge you for any of it.”

Keith meets Shiro’s eyes, the understanding warmth of them making his throat close up.

Without thinking, Keith presses his forehead against Shiro’s. There’s no warmth flooding into Keith’s mind, no soft chuckle or the push back that would make the gesture into something more than a simple show of affection between friends.

Keith tears away from Shiro and hurries out of the room without looking back, his vision growing more blurred with every step he takes.

 

* * *

Shiro keeps an eye on Keith, spying on him as he goes to train on his own and returning to his room later, but never joining him. Keith has made it clear he doesn’t want a sparring partner, and Shiro’s not going to force him to accept help. And if Shiro is honest with himself, he wouldn’t be much help with his Galran arm being so inconsistent in how it works lately — ever since his encounter with Lotor, to be precise.

A week later Kolivan informs Shiro that Thace is going to join them on their annual game day. Shiro tells Keith about it, who nods as his ears turn back, his jaw set in determination. Shiro doesn’t know what to make of it.

Another week passes, and Keith seems to be spending all nights in the training deck. Shiro hopes it’s just Keith being anxious about going to the Blade event, but he can’t be sure. It takes him three days to decide to confront Keith about it, and another day to gather the courage to actually do so.

“What’s wrong?” Shiro asks when Keith’s exits the training deck. He’d been waiting outside the door ever since he saw Keith go in, and if the way Keith’s eyes widen and his shoulders tense are anything to go by, he hadn’t realized he’d been caught.

“Nothing,” Keith replies, not meeting Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro sighs and pushes himself off the wall. “Keith, I know you. I know when something’s bothering you. You don’t have to lie to me.”

Keith bites his lip. Shiro waits, giving Keith a moment to think even though he wants nothing more than to grab Keith’s shoulders and shake him until Keith returns to the person he was before the Galra kidnapped him.

“I just...” Keith shrugs and wraps his arms around himself. “I wish I had something to remind me of Zarkon. I miss him.”

The frustration Shiro feels every time Keith brings up Zarkon rears its head, but Shiro stomps it down and forces himself to see things from Keith’s perspective. Hadn’t Shiro himself clung to Keith’s jacket like it was a lifeline while Keith had been gone? Of course Keith misses Zarkon, and though Shiro wants nothing more than for Keith to get over him and the Galra, he’s been enough of a jerk to Keith already — at least according to Keith who still calls their rescue a kidnapping.

Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Come on.” He leads Keith to his room and digs around his belongings while Keith stands awkwardly by the door.

It doesn't take long for Shiro to find what he was looking for despite his Galran arm being unusually difficult by not letting him bend his fingers. He takes a moment to shake his hand in an attempt to get the wires inside the arm to realign in a way that will make his fingers work again, trying not to let Keith see what he’s doing.

Shiro returns to Keith, his jaw set in a hard line. “Does this help?” He lifts the bayard in his hand, watching the way Keith’s eyes widen and his jaw drops, waiting for anger to replace the surprise.

“Why do you have Zarkon’s bayard?” Keith asks, his voice oddly soft, as if the bayard might disappear if he speaks too loudly.

Shiro shrugs one shoulder and shifts. “Allura got it after... Zarkon dropped it.”

Keith snatches the bayard from Shiro, turning it in his hands like he’s inspecting it for damage.

“You can keep it while I’m not on missions. I’ll need it when I do paladin stuff, but I don’t do anything with it here.” Shiro waves his hand at the room even if Keith doesn’t remove his eyes from the bayard. “Would that help?”

Keith’s head jerks in what might be considered a nod. “I think I’m gonna go sleep now,” he says, his voice distant.

Shiro nods. “Okay. Sleep well.”

Keith leaves the room without another word. Shiro stares after him, biting his lip, his brow furrowed. He crosses his arms the best he can and tries to ignore the uncertainty clawing at his insides. If having the bayard helps Keith deal with being back then so be it; Shiro isn’t going to stop him from coping in whatever ways Keith thinks are best.

He just hopes he’s doing the right thing by offering Keith something to remember Zarkon by.

 

* * *

If Keith could, he’d lock the door to his room. The bayard is warm in his hand, light in a way it’s rarely been for him.

Keith stands in the middle of the room and visualizes his trusted blade. The bayard forms it before Keith has more than the faintest idea of the blade in his mind. Keith swallows, his muscles tense. Slowly, the bayard shifts into the familiar shape of the blade whip. After a while the bayard grows heavy, fighting Keith at every step, but Keith refuses to let the form shift back to his own blade or disappear all together.

It’s something — a connection to Zarkon or a weapon should Keith need one. He lets the blade whip disintegrate and hides the bayard under his pillow. He’ll be better off pretending he can’t use it; that it’s just something he needs for comfort.

If Keith’s lucky Shiro won’t mind him keeping the bayard during the Blade game day. Keith can use it against Thace — a piece of Zarkon by Keith’s side when he takes out the person who tore them apart.

 

* * *

The first time Keith is alone with Allura happens a week or so before they are supposed to go to the Blade base.

They run into each other in an elevator, and neither of them says a word for a long minute. To Keith’s surprise, Allura is the one to break the silence.

She clears her throat and turns to Keith, visibly uncomfortable. “Shiro told me he gave his bayard to you.”

“Just for when he’s not on missions,” Keith replies, not meeting her eyes.

Allura nods, and they lapse into another silence. The elevator stops, but instead of stepping out Allura turns to Keith. “I wanted to apologize — I haven’t been as accommodating to you as I should have been.”

“Did Shiro talk to you?” Keith glances at her, his eyes knowing. He’d told Shiro the way Allura looks at him tends to make him uncomfortable a few days back — like Keith’s mere existence upsets her — and he’d rather not come along to the Coalition meeting Shiro had invited him to join.

“Yes,” Allura admits. “I’m afraid he does have a point, as well. I have let my own prejudices get the better of me.”

Keith blinks, not knowing what else to do.

Allura takes a step closer to him as the doors close behind her and the elevator begins to climb again. “It wasn’t easy for me to hear that you have Galra blood, or see you as one of them — not because I think it’s a failing on your part, but because... well. You piloted my father’s Lion, and I thought you were human, but... to learn that a Galra had... I didn’t know you weren’t...”

“You didn’t know you were working with a Galra and letting one pilot your father’s Lion,” Keith finishes for her.

Allura nods, not quite meeting Keith’s eyes, the tilt of her ears ashamed. “I keep thinking I should have seen it, that I should have known. That I should have instinctively not trusted you because of your heritage. But I didn’t see it and I gave you my father’s Lion and my trust — both of which you deserved — but after what the Galra did to my people, I keep thinking I should have known you were one of them.”

Keith shifts and Allura meets his eyes, her own shining bright. “I’m not angry at you, I’m angry at myself for letting my prejudices get the better of me and for being hurt because I thought you were human — just like everyone else did. And then you came back and you’re on the Empire’s side — “

“I’m not on their side,” Keith cuts in. “I just think there’s a better way to go about things.”

Allura shakes her head. “I know what I’m doing. The Voltron Coalition works together to take care of everyone who joins it. We all pitch in and help each other, that’s how the universe will survive the Empire’s fall. We’ll all take care of each other.”

Keith sighs. “It’s just that — I’m not defending him here — Zarkon thinks he’s doing what’s best for the Galra. He sees everyone else as an enemy so he strikes against them before they can strike against the Galra, and you think that destroying the Empire is the best way to go about things. I just think the answer is somewhere in the middle. I don’t want to destroy Zarkon’s home and everything he has again.”

Allura frowns. “Again?”

Keith bites his lip, his tail flicking from side to side. “Zarkon told me what happened between your father and him. I know he’s biased so I took it all with a grain of salt, but I also saw how badly losing Daibazaal still affects him and I“ — Keith sighs, his shoulders slumping — “I know he’s an ass but I love him and I can’t do something like that to him.”

Allura swallows, the line of her mouth hard and her jaw clenched. “I understand, but the decision is not yours, and I hope you can respect that in the future.” Her voice is tight, like she’s putting all her training as a princess into keeping her composure.

Keith inclines his head. “I’ll try, just as long as you respect the fact that I disagree with you.”

“I’ll do my best to do so,” Allura replies with a slight bow of her head.

The doors close behind them, neither one of them having realized the elevator had stopped again.

Allura chuckles and Keith smiles. She opens the doors and follows Keith out, hesitantly joining his side as he heads towards the kitchen.

“May I ask you something?”

Keith nods.

“Coran told me you have rather unusual markings,” Allura starts as they reach the corridor the kitchen is on.

Keith groans and stops. “Why is everyone so obsessed with my markings?”

Allura takes a step back and Keith hurries to fix a more calm expression on his face. “Come on,” he grumbles and leads Allura to the nearest door. It turns out to be a storage space where Hunk has stored dry ingredients that didn’t fit in the kitchen cabinets — “you never know when you’ll need to be prepared. What if we get stranded in space and the food processors break?” Hunk had reasoned when Keith had asked him about it — and Keith closes the door behind them and turns on the lights.

Allura studies him with curious eyes while Keith sheds his black coat and rolls up the sleeve of his deep gray shirt to show Allura the markings on his arm. She steps forward, leaning down to study Keith’s arm. She runs her fingers along the markings on Keith’s skin, her touch feather light, a concentrated frown marring her face.

“Curious,” she mutters.

“Care to share?” Keith asks.

Allura’s eyes snap to his face, and to Keith’s surprise she pushes his hair from his face and tilts his head from side to side, studying the lines on Keith’s cheeks.

Keith tries to pry his head from her hold, but she only grips his head tighter. “What?”

Instead of replying, Allura stands back, a determined expression on her face. Keith stares at her with wide eyes as she takes off the top of her uniform until she’s standing there in her under armor suit.

Then — to Keith’s horror — she starts pulling her own sleeve down.

“Whoa! Okay, um.” Keith swirls around and closes his eyes for good measure.

Allura huffs. “Don’t tell me the only Galran thing you didn’t pick up on is their lack of modesty.”

Keith grimaces. “No, I just... I don’t — I’m not —“

Allura laughs and nudges Keith’s shoulder. “Just turn around.”

Keith does so, making sure his eyes remain fixed on her face. Allura’s expression shifts from expectant to unimpressed. Keith’s eyes flicker down, and he lets out a sigh of relief that Allura has merely freed her arm form the sleeve.

“Look,” she says as she steps to Keith’s side, pressing her arm against Keith’s.

Keith spares her a confused glance before looking down at their arms. He stills, his eyes widening. Allura has markings similar to Keith’s running down her arm, though hers are more like the markings on her cheeks — both in shape and color — than the crescents on Keith’s skin.

“It’s an old Altean belief that markings like these are given by the ancients as a blessing. Not all of our people had them, but those who did could do things,” Allura says.

“Like pilot the Castleship?” Keith asks.

Allura nods. “My father had similar markings to mine — I’ve never seen ones quite like yours, though.”

“Is it just your arms or?” Keith trails away.

“No,” Allura replies. “I have more on my legs and my — “

“Back,” Keith finishes. They stare at each other with wide eyes.

Allura is the first to get her bearings back, and she puts her uniform back on in a hurry before grabbing Keith’s arm and his coat, and pulling him out of the door. “We must test your blood. It might just be the Witch toying with you but — “

“No one’s testing anything,” Keith states and tears himself free from her hold. Allura turns to frown at him.

Keith sighs as he rolls his sleeve down. “I’ve been poked and prodded and tested to hell and back, and I can’t do that again right now. Just... give me some time to process this.”

Allura isn’t happy about it, but she lets Keith go with a solemn nod. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

Keith’s shoulders relax. “Don’t tell the others. I want to be sure about what this really is before telling them.”

Allura nods again. “You know what this means, right? Coran and I, we may not — “

“I know,” Keith says. “Just let me… figure stuff out first.”

Keith leaves her there, his appetite having disappeared, and heads back to his room where he pulls out his pad and calls Haggar. It takes her a while to pick up, and Keith’s so taken back by the mess of her hair and the lack of her usual cloak that he almost misses the way she blinks the last of the sleep from her eyes.

“Do you know what time it is?” Haggar grumbles, her voice still heavy with sleep.

Keith glares at her. “Do you know why I have Altean markings?”

Haggar stills, then sighs. “I was wondering how long it would take you to figure that one out.”

“So you knew?” Keith’s ears flatten and he scowls at Haggar.

“Of course I did. I do know what Altean markings look like, I have them too.” Haggar tilts her head. “Stop scowling, it doesn’t look good on you.”

Keith’s scowl deepens. “Why didn’t you tell me? Or Zarkon? He must know what Altean markings look like since you two have a child. Unless you have some issue with being naked or you insisted you two only had sex in pitch darkness or something so he never saw you without your clothes on, because I know for a fact that Zarkon doesn’t have a problem with nudity.”

“You do not talk to me that way.” Haggar’s voice is dangerously cold, as are her eyes. “Zarkon is not here to protect you, and if you think a little distance is going to keep me from twisting your ears until you know your place, you are sorely mistaken.”

The memory of the pain of the time Haggar had pinched his ear flashes through Keith mind and makes his ears flatten defensively. Keith takes a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “Just tell me why I’m the last to know that I have Altean markings? I think that would’ve been nice to know when Vazka called them interesting.”

“We didn’t tell you about it because we aren’t sure why you have Altean markings,” Haggar says. “When you came to us your genetics were nigh identical to those of humans, and I had to purposefully look for the alien markers in your genes to find out about your Galran heritage. When we fixed you after you had been gutted, I used Altean blood to make your genetics more easy to change.”

“You put Altean blood into me?” Keith asks, his voice incredulous. He refuses to ask where Haggar got the blood.

“Species with any kind of shape shifting abilities tend to be rather good universal donors,” Haggar replies matter of factly, tilting her head. “I assumed your markings were a result of that, and that they would fade in a few days. I have assured Zarkon that the reason behind your markings is the blood I used to mend you, but as the markings have not faded I’m not comfortable saying that is, in fact, the truth.”

“So, you think I might be part Altean?” The mere idea makes Keith want to laugh, but the serious look on Haggar’s face keeps him from doing so.

“It would explain how your parents were able to hide you so well,” Haggar replies. “Altean’s have a natural ability to change their appearance, and as such their genetics are more easily manipulated to appear as something they are not.”

“You didn’t do any tests?” Keith asks, having a hard time believing Haggar doesn’t know exactly what his genetic makeup look like by now.

“I did, but as the blood work we have from you is from the time you had been bumped full of Galran and Altean blood, I would not trust it entirely. If I had asked to do more tests on you Zarkon would have grown suspicious, and I for one had no desire to find out how he would react if he thought that a Galra and an Altean hid their child on a distant planet.”

Keith inclines his head, seeing her point. Zarkon isn’t fond of Alteans on his best days, Keith can only imagine how poorly he would have reacted if he found out that a Galra and an Altean — who shouldn’t even exist after Zarkon hunted them to extinction — had a child. Especially if said child somehow found his way into Zarkon’s bed after being captured as a Paladin of Voltron and an enemy to the Empire without anyone realizing it.

Keith doesn’t think he would have been in any danger, but he has no doubt Zarkon would have done  _ something  _ to get control of the situation _. _

“Zarkon isn’t there now, is he?” Keith raises an eyebrow and meets Haggar’s eyes. “Can’t you test my blood now? Allura offered to do it but I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

Haggar offers Keith a small, approving tilt of her lips, and inclines her head. “I could, but I don’t have a fresh sample.”

“How would I get one to you?” Keith asks.

Haggar frowns, lost in thought for a moment. “The Paladins are fond of attacking our outposts. Perhaps you could join them on one such occasion and hide a sample in our facilities, assuming your… companions don’t intend to destroy it, of course.”

Keith nods. “I’ll figure something out.”

“Good. If you have nothing else to talk about, I will go back to sleep, I have to tend to the Emperor in a naare and I would rather do that when I am well rested,” Haggar replies.

Keith swallows, his ears drooping. “I know it’s stupid, but could you tell him hi for me?”

Haggar smiles, oddly soft and understanding. “Of course.”

They end the transmission and Keith flops on the bed, trying to process all of the new information.

 

* * *

Shiro is both surprised and relieved that Keith and Allura seem to have put their differences aside, at least for now. He’s even more surprised when Keith says he might know how to ease the stiffness of Shiro’s arm.

“I helped fix sentries, remember?” Keith reminds Shiro with a shrug. “Their arms aren’t  _ that _ different from yours.”

A few days later Shiro sits in the medical bay, biting his tongue to keep his anxiety from showing while Keith, Pidge and Hunk go over the schematics of Shiro’s arm. Allura and Coran join them after a while, offering their own input. Lance — having come in with Coran and Allura — meanders to Shiro’s side to keep him company.

“This isn’t going to fix the problem all together, but this should ease the stiffness at least a little,” Hunk says as they all make their way to Shiro.

“It’s better than nothing,” Shiro replies, “I’m not planning on taking on the Galra with only one arm.”

Keith rolls his eyes while Pidge and Hunk mutter to themselves, going over what they need to do.

“I think it would be best if we sedate you for this procedure,” Coran says. “The arm is connected to your central nervous system and we are going to have to stimulate certain wires, and it might hurt.”

Shiro swallows and sits up straighter. “Alright. Just... don’t make it worse.”

“We won’t,” Pidge assures him.

“I’ll stick around,” Keith says, his ears twitching. “If you want me to, that is. I can go away too.”

“No, I want you to stay,” Shiro hurries to reply. Keith nods and takes a seat by the operation table Coran has Shiro lie down on.

Shiro wants to reach out and take Keith’s arm while Coran injects him with the sedative, but he doesn’t. Instead he watches Keith while the sedative works through his systems, making his limbs heavy and his thoughts muddled. Soon even his eyes refuse to stay open, and he’s dragged under deep chemical sleep.

When Shiro wakes up, his arm doesn’t feel quite so stiff anymore. It’s not ideal, but at least he can bend his elbow without it being a chore that takes several agonizingly long seconds to complete. Even his fingers move easier.

“How are you feeling?” Allura asks, dragging Shiro’s focus to her.

“Better,” he replies, his mouth uncomfortably dry.

A straw presses against Shiro’s lips and he welcomes it, sucking the sugary water more slowly than he’d like, but knowing better than to rush. After a moment Keith pulls the straw away. Shiro frowns at him, imagining he looks petulant but unable to help himself.

“It doesn’t hurt?” Keith asks. Shiro hears the edge in his voice, but he can’t decipher what it means. He focuses his eyes on Keith’s face and the almost guilty furrow of his brow.

“No,” Shiro says. “It’s still a bit stiff and it’s throbbing a little but I’ll be fine until you guys figure out a way to properly fix it.”

Keith smiles, but it’s forced.

Shiro still offers him a smile of his own. “You’ll figure something out. You already helped a lot.”

Keith doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t say anything either. Shiro’s grateful for it. He’s not up to dealing with Keith’s uncertainty just yet, he’d rather pretend his arm will be fully functional in no time.

Keith and Allura help Shiro sit up a minute later, after the drugs have more or less left his system and Coran has checked him over and made sure he’s okay. Shiro takes his time standing up, then he joins Allura and Keith for a cup of tea. He and Allura stare at Keith while he scoops up sugar into his cup, and the memory of what Keith had said about Zarkon’s tea preferences flashes through Shiro’s mind.

“Is that how you’ve always had your tea, or did Zarkon’s habits rub off on you?” Allura asks, surprising Shiro. Her voice carries an edge of tenseness, as does the set of her shoulders, but her expression is trying to be open.

Keith stills, his eyes darting between the tea, Allura and Shiro. “It reminds me of him.”

“Is that even drinkable?” Shiro asks, reaching for the cup. When Keith doesn’t stop him, Shiro takes the cup and sips the tea, grimacing at the amount of sugar in it.

“My father always said that for someone who doesn’t enjoy spices in his food, Zarkon had an odd affinity for sweets,” Allura says, her smile forced.

“The Galra have sensitive taste buds so they don’t enjoy heavily spiced food,” Keith explains, more to Shiro than to Allura. “Zarkon just likes stupid stuff.”

Keith shoves the spoon back into the sugar cup a little too hard, a grim frown marring his face, his ears drawn back.

“We’re still going to the Blade event later this week, right?” Shiro asks to change the subject.

“Yes,” Allura hurries to answer, her eyes flickering back to Keith for just a second. “We’ll need to decide which Lions we want to take, and who is coming to the base and who will stay here.”

“I’ll come,” Keith cuts in. “I miss the Galra.”

Allura and Shiro glance at each other.

“And Thace will be there, right? That hasn’t changed?” Keith looks up from his tea, his eyes darting from Shiro to Allura and back to Shiro again.

“He’ll be there,” Shiro assures him.

Keith nods, his expression determined. “Good. I want to see him.”

“You will, don’t worry,” Shiro promises, even as a chill runs down his spine. There’s something dark in Keith’s eyes, something dangerous, like Shiro has never seen before.

Keith looks back down to his tea and the moment passes.

Soon Allura starts talking about the possibility of holding a movie night, and while Shiro enjoys talking with her about such menial things — especially when Keith joins their conversation — he can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Assuming I get the doctor's permission to do so, I'm gonna be doing inktober, so updates are gonna be slower than usual.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay this is the last chapter you get before inktober, because I still can't write or draw properly. So I edited this to rest my arm.

Keith doesn’t offer to shake Matt’s hand, and Matt doesn’t offer to shake his. They just stare at each other in an uncomfortable silence while Shiro and Pidge stand next to them, their eyes darting from Keith to Matt and back to Keith again.

Matt glances at Shiro, raising an eyebrow. Keith bites his lip and focuses his own gaze on his toes. They had said hi, but the way Matt had tensed when he’d first laid eyes on Keith had made Keith not want to be there anymore.

“Well... I guess we should be going?” Pidge glances at Shiro whose smile fades away before he nods.

Keith’s ears twitch back but he stays still, refusing to walk away even though it’s what he wants to do. He doesn’t move until Matt bolts to Pidge’s side and the two of them head to the Red Lion.

Shiro comes to stand by Keith, touching his shoulder hesitantly. “Are you sure about this?”

“Yes,” Keith says, his voice steady and his jaw set.

Shiro withdraws his hand and nods. “Okay, then. Let’s get going.”

Keith follows Shiro into the Black Lion, his heart racing when he enters the cockpit. He tries to reach Zarkon, hoping that this time the Lion will work as a conduit between them, but there’s nothing but the hollow emptiness Keith has come to expect. It still hurts just like it did when Keith had woken up in the Castleship, but he’s grown accustomed to hiding his pain and even ignoring it, though he can’t forget it’s there.

Hunk joins them moments later, and Shiro flies them out of the Castleship, the Red Lion following them close by.

The Blade of Marmora base they are headed to is not the one the Blade use as their headquarters, and though Keith would have liked to know where that is — he would have loved to look Thace in the eye and have him know Keith knows where the heart of the Blade’s operations is, and that he could tell Zarkon about it if he so desired — he’s excited to be around Galra again and see the base on the moon circling the oval planet covered in pinks and yellows.

The moon they land on is one of six circling the planet, and it’s not noticeably different from the other moons. “The planet doesn’t have intelligent life,” Hunk informs Keith as they leave the safety of the Lion. “So there’s no one there who could notice the base.”

Keith nods, his ears twitching in the helmet that’s not designed to accommodate them. The armor — almost like the one Allura had worn before becoming a Paladin — has at least been modified to take his tail into account, but Keith had decided to ask Kolivan for a proper Galran armor after wearing the Altean one for less than five minutes. No one had offered Keith his old Paladin armor, and Keith had thought it best not to ask for it.

The second they enter the Blade base, carved into a rocky hillside to hide it, Keith tears the helmet off and breathes in the familiar air — heavier and dryer than the one in the Castleship but not drastically so — that fills Keith’s lungs so much easier than the air of the Castleship. He takes a few seconds to enjoy his surroundings and the familiar warm temperature of a Galran dwelling.

“We have arranged for a more suitable armor for you,” Rejya tells Keith as a greeting.

“Does it come with a helmet that won’t crush my ears, and can I keep it?” Keith asks, turning to her.

Rejya inclines her head. “Of course.”

Shiro joins Keith’s side. “That’s great.”

Keith nods. It will be good to have a Galran armor at his disposal, especially if he has to escape the Castleship and run to the Empire on his own at some point.

“Can I get it now?” Keith asks. Rejya inclines her head again, motioning Keith to follow her. Shiro raises an eyebrow, but Keith shakes his head, not wanting Shiro to join him.

Rejya leads Keith through the corridors, their comfortable familiarity putting Keith at ease. The low lights and the deep, dark colors remind him of the Empire’s ships.

Keith would stay there forever if he thought he had any chance of escaping back to the Empire with Kolivan watching over him.

“Is Thace here?” Keith asks to fill the silence and to get his mind off of being in a Galran environment again.

“Yes.” Rejya spares a glance at Keith. “I’m not sure he has accepted your challenge, though.”

Keith grits his teeth, but doesn’t say anything. If Kolivan can’t convince Thace to accept Keith’s challenge and he won’t let Keith try to do so himself, he just won’t fight, simple as that.

Rejya shows Keith to a room where the walls are lined with lockers with Galran symbols on the doors and a locking panel on each of them, showing which of the lockers are in use.

Rejya walks all the way to the end of the room, stopping at the last locker on the left. “We assigned this one to you for today.”

Keith starts taking his Altean armor off while Rejya opens the locker, explaining how to lock the door when Keith is ready to leave the room. After a moment, Rejya falls silent, slowly lifting an eyebrow.

Keith shrugs the top of the under armor suit off. “What?”

“I was under the impression that Alteans and humans share the same dislike for public nudity,” Rejya replies, and Keith frowns. “I know you are not one of them, but you did spend most of your life with them,” Rejya adds.

Keith takes his boots off and shrugs. “I also spent a year with the Galra and their habits rubbed off on me.”

Rejya tilts her head. “Fair enough. I will wait for you in the hallway; I must contact an operative of the Blade and I would rather do that in private. Once you are ready I will show you to your friends.”

Keith inclines his head, and waits until Rejya leaves the room before taking the rest of his suit off and pulling the Galran armor out of the locker. It’s more similar to the Blade of Marmora armor than the Empire’s armor in design; the colors are more colder grays and blues than the rich, warmer shades the Empire favors, but Keith doesn’t mind it that much. The armor has thin, light purple lines traveling around his neck and down his throat, ending in an almost arrow like shape. There is also a set of lines similar to the ones on the Blade armor on his chest, the color of them the same purple as the lines on his neck.

The armor doesn’t have the hood Keith has seen on the Blade agents armors, and the helmet is more reminiscent of the typical pilot’s helmet of the Empire. Keith prefers it, in a way; he doesn’t look exactly like a Blade agent wearing the armor, and he doesn’t look like a member of the Galra military either.

He’s somewhere in between the two.

Keith decides to leave the helmet in the locker for now, and leaves the room to join Rejya waiting for him in the corridor. For a moment — for the small eternity it takes for the door to open — Keith expects to see Marzila waiting for him, but of course she’s not there, and Keith’s ears droop a little.

“Ready?” Rejya asks, seemingly unaware of Keith’s disappointment.

Keith inclines his head and lets Rejya lead him to a meeting room with a long table in the middle of it, almost like the conference rooms of the Central Command. Kolivan is there with the Paladins and Matt, and the conversations stops the moment Keith enters the room.

Kolivan’s studies Keith closely for a moment. “Thace has agreed to be your challenger, if you still wish to participate in the games.”

Keith inclines his head. “I do.”

“Then I will explain the rules of the combat to you.” Kolivan waves Keith to sit down at the table. The others — including Rejya — sit down as well, with Kolivan taking the head of the table.

“You are allowed to use weapons of your choice but no long rage — “

“The basic rules of combat?” Keith cuts in. “I know those.”

The line of Kolivan’s mouth hardens, and he nods towards the humans and Allura. “Do they?”

Keith looks down, his ears flattening.

“No long range weapons,” Kolivan continues, “you cannot use weaponry that affects your opponent’s ability to fight, such as sound or light based weaponry. Since we are training with agents who will need to not raise suspicion in the Empire, we don’t allow severe injury to come to anyone; anything we can’t heal here is forbidden.”

Keith’s ears flatten further and he lets his bangs fall around his face to hide his frown. He’ll have to redo his braid before fighting Thace, but for now its loosened state is a blessing.

“As for the day itself, we will be dividing the participants into teams based on who has challenged who, and the rest based on random selection,” Kolivan continues. “You will wear proper armor and show respect to your challenger. Each challenge lasts a limited amount of time or until one of the challengers yields or is injured in a way that does not allow them to continue.”

Keith tunes the sound of Kolivan’s explanation out, not caring what he has to say about not injuring or killing opponents. Keith isn't there to play nice with Thace, not when Thace is the reason Keith isn't with Zarkon anymore.

“Keith?” Shiro's voice draws Keith's attention and he looks up, not wanting to seem like he hasn't been listening.

“Yeah?”

“You’re not listening,” Shiro says, a frown on his face.

Keith glances around the table before shrugging. “Are your rules any different from the standard rules of combat? Minus the murdering your opponent thing?” Keith raises an eyebrow, his eyes fixed on Kolivan.

“No,” Kolivan admits, trying his best to hide his reluctance to do so, “but you do need to know more than the rules of combat. There is a proper way of greeting your opponent —“

“— as established during the Va Dzira war when it became more standard for opposing sides of the conflict to select a champion and have them fight instead of entire armies battling it out. The last reform to the proper greeting form was done eight thousand years ago when it was decided that reciting ancient prayers and incantations wasn’t necessary anymore since the formal challenges begin with a third party already reciting one for the challengers, and doing the same thing three times in a row was considered redundant.” Keith’s eyes travel across the table, taking in the surprised looks directed at him. “Zarkon thought it’s important that I know the history of that stuff,” Keith says, casting his eyes to the dark surface of the table.

“Would you like to go pick your weapon?” Kolivan asks, his voice not giving away anything. Keith studies his face for any signs of annoyance or displeasure, but finds none. Kolivan tilts his head. “If you know all of this, your time will be better spent selecting your weapon or doing something else to prepare yourself.”

Keith stands, inclining his head and forcing a brief smile on his face. “Sure.”

Rejya stands as well and she follows Keith out of the room. “I’ll show you the way,” she says once they’re in the corridor.

Keith appreciates it, only now realizing he has no idea where he’s supposed to go. They head left of the conference room, a relatively comfortable silence surrounding them.

“Hey!”

Keith stops and turns to face Shiro, surprised to see him hurrying after them.

“I thought I’d come with you since I don’t really need to know that stuff either,” Shiro says as he comes to a stop in front of Keith.

“You know the rules as well?” Rejya asks.

Shiro shakes his head. “Some of them, but I’m not interested in fighting today. I think Allura and Matt are the only ones who want to participate. Lance would’ve joined you if he could’ve use his rifle, but since that’s not a possibility he’s staying out too.”

Rejya lifts an eyebrow. “Are your kind only trained in one type of weapon?”

Shiro shrugs. “Not necessarily. Some of us specialize in one kind of weapon, but some want to know how to use different a vast array of them. It’s a personal preference, but most go for some knowledge on a few kinds of weapons while specializing on one type. Lance picked firearms so that’s what he’s comfortable with.”

“That is not effective. A person should know how to use a variety of weapons effectively, even if they specialize in only one.” Rejya turns around before Shiro can respond. Keith follows her, and a second later Shiro joins his side.

They reach the weapons room a few minutes later. Rejya lets Keith browse the swords and staffs and daggers, while Shiro studies the firearms. Keith picks a sword — shorter than the other swords around it — with a slightly curved blade, as well as a dagger to hide in his boot before turning to Shiro.

“I want the bayard.”

Shiro had taken the bayard from Keith before they had left the Castleship, saying he preferred to keep it while flying the Lion, and though Keith had wanted to fight him on it, he’d thought better of it.

Shiro’s brow knits together. “You can’t use it. If you want to use a bayard I’m sure Lance will borrow his to you.”

Keith shakes his head. “I want Zarkon’s bayard. I just want it with me. Please?”

Shiro sighs but hands the bayard to Keith, a hint of hesitation lingering in his eyes. Keith does his best to not let Shiro or Rejya see anything on his face; he even does his best to will his ears and tail to remain motionless. He’s not sure how well he succeeds, but if either Shiro or Rejya see something wrong with his behavior they don’t mention it.

After Keith has picked his weapons, Rejya drops him off with six other Blade agents before taking Shiro to the rest of the Paladins.

“You know what you’re doing with that?” One of the Blade’s — a tall, bulky man with a bluish, velvet like fur and white markings, and scars like someone had clawed at him running across his face — asks, pointing at the sword by Keith’s side.

Keith flattens his ears. “Yes.”

“Because the other Paladins are a little lackluster with their skills, from what we’ve observed — too focused on one kind of skill,” the Blade continues.

Keith’s ears flatten further, his tail twitching. “I know what I’m doing. And I’m not a Paladin.”

“Good.” The Blade extends his hand to Keith, and after a second of hesitation Keith clasps his forearm, the Blade doing the same to him in return. “I’m Tral.”

“Keith,” Keith replies, getting soft chuckles for his trouble.

“We know who you are,” Tral informs him.

Keith relaxes around the Galra, their familiar kind of banter and behavior easy for Keith to understand. Tral explains the teams and the schedule to Keith before they go to watch the matches from the edges of the training room. The look of it is almost like that of the training room Keith and Marzila had trained in, but the training area is surrounded by a slightly raised platform of sorts that runs along the walls, where the people not engaging in the match can observe it safely.

_ You’ve built your own Area _ , Keith wants to say, but he thinks better of it.

The matches aren’t too long — the longest lasts eight keeseks and gets called off as a draw when the time limit is reached — but they are fast paced and intriguing to follow. Keith does his best to memorize the different moves and techniques he sees while he re-braids his hair.

During one of the breaks between the matches, Keith scans the groups of people standing at the edges of the room, his eyes finally finding Thace. Keith waits for anger to wash over him, but the world merely quiets down around him, his focus narrowing down to him and Thace and nothing else.

The next match starts, but Keith doesn’t pay attention to it.

 

* * *

 

Allura has fun challenging the Galra who can easily hold their own against her. Shiro can see the smile playing on her lips even after she loses. Shiro makes a point of congratulating her when she joins his side, out of breath but happy.

“It’s been a while since I’ve sparred with a Galra,” she says, “It was fun, though.”

Shiro smiles at her. “You did great.”

They fall silent when the next match starts. Shiro keeps an eye on it like he’s done with every other match, memorizing the moves and different styles the Galra use almost on instinct, some distant part of him screaming that knowing how the enemy moves is the only thing that will keep him alive. Shiro grits his teeth and squashes that part of himself down.

Eventually it’s Keith’s turn to challenge Thace, and Shiro stands straighter. Kolivan joins his side and crosses his arms, a frown on his face. “He’s angry,” he says quietly, almost thoughtfully.

Shiro shifts. “This could get ugly. Keith blames Thace for what happened to Zarkon more than he blames anyone else.”

“Thace can take care of himself,” Kolivan replies.

Shiro trusts Kolivan’s assessment of Thace’s abilities, but he still remains tense and worried of what’s about to happen.

Keith and Thace meet in the middle of the makeshift arena, Keith’s ears flattened back, his tail twitching, Thace seeming almost placating. They bow without breaking eye contact, both ready to begin their match.

The tension is almost palpable, and it takes a small eternity for Thace to swing his sword at Keith. Shiro expect Keith to parry the strike, but Keith just steps aside. Shiro frowns when Keith dodges Thace again before stepping around Thace and pressing his back to Thace’s.

Shiro’s eyes widen. “Lotor did that same thing.”

“It is not a typical Galran style,” Kolivan replies, his focus fixed on the fight.

“No,” Allura says, her voice dark. There’s a grim scowl on her face, even her ears have turned down. “Zarkon used to do that to my father to annoy him. It’s one of the things he never taught anyone else, he said it’s something that only the members of the Imperial family are allowed to learn.”

“Then why does Keith know it?” Shiro glances at Allura before focusing on the match again. Keith finally strikes at Thace, but Thace blocks him and punches Keith’s side hard enough to make Keith step back to catch his breath again.

“That can’t be too hard to learn,” Pidge pipes in, “it’s just dodging, right?”

“Father said there’s a technique and rhythm to it that is hard to copy if you don’t know how it’s done,” Allura replies, “he said it’s not about dodging.”

“It’s annoying to be up against,” Shiro says and grimaces when Keith drives his heel into Thace’s foot.

Thace grabs Keith’s tail and twists it until Keith swings his sword at Thace blindly, nearly slashing his gut open. Thace lets go of Keith and puts distance between them while Keith regains his balance, his tail twitching awkwardly.

Shiro sees Keith’s intention to throw his sword at Thace before he does so; he’s familiar enough with Keith’s style to predict his movements by now.

Thace dodges the sword flying through the air easily, and the sword hits the far wall with a loud clank. Keith and Thace eye each other, both tense and ready to move the second they other does.

Keith is the first to move, bolting towards the sword. Thace moves to cut him off and Keith stops, pulling the bayard out.

Thace scrambles to stop and get away from Keith.

Shiro’s eyes widen.

There’s anger like Shiro’s never seen on Keith’s face as the bayard forms into a blade — not quite like the one Keith has always used but Shiro’s too busy processing the fact that Keith can even use the bayard.

Keith plants his feet and swings the bayard hard in a wide arch, the blade — to Shiro’s shock — turns into a whip like the one Zarkon had used when he’d nearly killed Keith during their first confrontation.

Shiro’s jaw hangs open, his eyes wide, and only the whip crashing into the wall, sending rubble flying everywhere snaps him out of his disbelief.

The Galra and Thace have all crouched to the ground or hurried out of the whip’s way, and a loaded silence has fallen into the room. Keith swings the whip again before anyone has time to fully recover from their shock, aiming for Thace who barely gets out of the way.

Thace rushes Keith as Keith readies for a third strike. He drives his fist into Keith’s face before Keith can swing the bayard again, then sweeps Keith’s legs out from under him. Keith hits the ground with a thud, quickly rolling over and away from Thace.

Thace kneels over Keith before he can get up and pins him to the ground. He grabs  Keith’s arm and twists it back, forcing Keith to let go of the bayard.

The sound of Keith’s bones breaking is deafening in the silence, and Keith’s pained cry makes Shiro want to throw up. He looks away, hating himself for doing so but unable to help it.

The silence that follows last long enough for Shiro to swallow down the bile in his throat and look back to the scene before him.

Thace is leaning over Keith, speaking to Keith too quietly for anyone else to hear what he says. After a while he pulls back and crouches next to Keith, like he’s ready to spring to his feet if need be. It takes a couple more seconds for Keith to steady himself enough to push himself up with his uninjured arm, and he turns to glare at Thace, his ears flat and his breath coming in fast puffs. Thace makes himself smaller in response.

Keith kicks Thace, his foot crushing Thace’s face and knocking him back.

Keith lunges at Thace and a couple of the Blade agents start towards him, but Thace gets out of Keith’s reach before bowing at Keith, nearly pressing his face to the ground. “I yield!”

Keith and the Galra still. Shiro frowns, unsure of how yielding is supposed to help the situation.

Keith heaves, his tail smacking against the floor. No one moves for a moment, then one of the Blade agents walks up to Keith and pulls him to his feet, saying something to him. Keith shrugs him off and turns on his heels, then walks away, holding his broken arm close to his body.

Shiro takes a step after him, only for Kolivan to grab his arm and stop him. “Let him calm down.”

“He’s hurt,” Shiro counters.

“It’s nothing he can’t live with. Let him calm down. You rushing to his side and hovering around him won’t do anything to help him.” Kolivan levels Shiro with a hard look before letting go of his arm and heading to Thace.

Allura steps closer to Shiro, her expression grim. “Did you know he can use the bayard?”

Shiro shakes his head.

“How was that even possible?” Lance asks. “And how did he use the bayard like  _ that _ ?”

Shiro sighs. “I don’t know.”

To avoid further questions he has no answers to, Shiro hurries after Kolivan. Thace — out of breath and his nose and lip bleeding profusely from where Keith had kicked him — frowns at Shiro. “Which one of you was stupid enough to let Keith have Zarkon’s weapon?”

Shiro stops and blinks. “I didn’t know he could use it.”

“How did you not know that?” Thace spares an annoyed glance to the rest of the Paladins who had followed Shiro. “Don’t you people use the same weapons?”

“We do, but as Keith is not the Black Paladin we didn’t think he could use the bayard,” Allura replies. “We thought he could only use the red bayard since he used to pilot the Red Lion.”

“He did pilot Black once, though,” Hunk points out. “Maybe that’s why he can use it?”

Thace frowns, his ears flicking back. “In that case I have a question.”

Shiro and Allura share a glance. “Alright,” she says, crossing her arms.

Thace wipes the blood from his jaw with the heel of his hand and frowns. “If you need to pilot a specific lion to use a specific bayard, how was Zarkon able to use a bayard?”

Allura flinches and Shiro swallows, neither of them meeting Thace’s eyes. The other Paladins shift as well, none of them knowing what to say.

“It is not relevant,” Kolivan states.

“I think it is,” Thace counters, much to the surprise of the other Blade agents and Shiro. “I think it is highly relevant.”

Kolivan pulls himself to his full height, staring Thace down. “You don’t decide what is relevant information, and what is not.”

Thace’s ears flatten, and he nods at the crowd around them. “I think they have the right to know if a weapon that powerful can be used against them. What if — “

“You are bordering on insubordination.” Kolivan stares Thace down as the other Blade agents take a step back, their unease clear on their faces and in their postures.

Thace swallows before standing straighter, his shoulders set and his expression determined. His voice is carefully quiet when he speaks. “And you’re too comfortable in the safety of your position. You don’t see what it’s like out there when all you do is stay in the edges of the war with them” — he nods towards the Paladins — “or in the headquarters. You don’t see the reality by only going on missions targeting quiet remote outposts.”

Kolivan’s jaw clenches and his ears flatten.

Thace offers him a stiff bow. “If you’ll excuse me, I must go fix this.” Thace waves at his bleeding face and walks away before Kolivan can say anything. Some of the Blade agents glance at each other discreetly, their agreement with Thace’s words barely hidden.

“We are done for the day,” Kolivan declares.

No one dares to disagree with him.

 

* * *

 

The pain in his arm makes Keith dizzy and he barely makes it to the locker room. He slumps on the bench pushed into a corner near the door and lets out a shuddering breath as he leans his back against the wall and lets his eyes fall shut. His shoulder throbs from being dislocated, but the broken bones of his arm make that pain seem less relevant.

Keith doesn’t know how long he stays there, but eventually the door opens and closes, followed by hesitant steps making their way to Keith.

“You need medical attention,” Thace says.

Keith frowns without bothering to open his eyes. “And you need to go fuck yourself.”

Thace sighs and shuffles his feet. It’s not until he speaks again that Keith realizes he’d knelt on the floor. “I am sorry for causing you so much pain. I hope that, in time, you can forgive me.”

Keith snorts. “Don’t count on it.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, I think I just lost my rank as a Blade operative.”

There’s something in Thace’s voice that makes Keith open his eyes. “What do you mean?”

Thace sighs again, his eyes turning sad, and he rubs some of the blood off his face with the back of his hand. “Kolivan is — he is an exceptional leader and he cares for the wellbeing of those following him, but sometimes it feels like he... doesn’t see anything he doesn’t want to see anymore. I pointed out that it would be beneficial to the agents in the field to know if Voltron is something that can be easily used against them — by the Empire or any other enemy — but he disagreed.”

Keith tilts his head. “Rejya thinks Kolivan is too focused on what Allura wants to do. She thinks Kolivan isn’t thinking things through anymore, just taking the quickest route to bringing the Empire down.”

Thace inclines his head slowly. “I am aware of Rejya’s concerns, and she isn’t alone with them. I fear those concerns are more valid than we initially thought.”

Keith shifts, pain flaring up his arm and making him grimace. “Why did — “

The door opens and Rejya busts in. Tral follows her second later and locks the door behind them.

“What were you thinking?” Rejya glares at Thace, her usual calm demeanor nowhere to be found. “You cannot challenge the Leader like that!”

“Audience,” Tral pipes in.

“He’s with us,” Rejya snaps at him, not taking her eyes off Thace. “He won’t listen to us if you anger him like that.”

“He won’t listen to us either way,” Thace counters, “he doesn’t see things the same way we do.”

“You’re bordering on mutiny,” Rejya warns, her voice dangerously quiet.

Keith grits his teeth to keep silent. His arm hurts, but he’s more interested in seeing where the argument is going. Thace glances at him when he lets out a soft grunt, his brow furrowing. “Keith needs medical attention.”

“So do you,” Tral says.

Rejya spreads her arms before heading to the door. “Then let’s get you to medical bay.”

Thace helps Keith up and they follow Rejya and Tral out of the locker room and down the corridor. Shiro catches up to them as they round the last corner to the corridor where the medical bay is.

“We’re fine,” Keith states before Shiro can say anything.

“Good. Allura’s talking with Kolivan and the others are helping fix the damage you did,” Shiro says. The unspoken question of how Keith had used the bayard in the first place hangs in the air.

Keith shrugs his good shoulder. “Could you tell them I’m sorry I got mad?”

“That was your mad?” Tral glances at Keith over his shoulder, his eyes incredulous. “And here I thought Thace murdered your mate.”

“Zarkon’s not dead. And he’s not my mate,” Keith mutters, sparing a glance at Thace’s stiff shoulders.

Tral studies Keith with curious eyes, but thankfully he remains silent. They enter the medical bay and Tral guides Keith to sit on an examination table while Rejya shoves Thace to a nearby chair. There are a few other Galra milling about, but they don’t pay attention to Keith beyond sparing him a glance.

Tral scans Keith’s arm, frowning at the broken bones. “I’m going to fix that before setting your shoulder,” he says, nodding at the screen that displays the relatively clean break of Keith’s arm.

“Okay.” Keith takes a deep breath as Tral takes a hold of his arm. He keeps breathing, forcing himself to stay calm and doing his best to ignore Tral’s actions. It’s odd to be in a medical bay without the druids hovering around; it’s even odder not being treated by one.

“Shouldn’t you —“ Tral yanks the bone back to its place before Shiro can finish his sentence, forcing a pained grunt out of Keith.

“That’s the worst of it,” Tral says, offering Keith a reassuring smile. He goes to get a scalpel like knife, a bottle of refined quintessence, and what looks like an IV drip with a dull looking needle at the end.

After attaching the drip to the bottle Tral sets them down by Keith’s side. “I’m going to cut your skin and muscle to get the quintessence to your bone, and then it’ll close the wound, okay?”

Keith inclines his head. He’s familiar with the process, but he keeps that to himself, mostly for Shiro’s sake.

“Is that safe?” Shiro asks.

“Yes,” Tral replies as he settles Keith’s arm next to the scanner to get a better look at the break in Keith’s bone. “We know how to use quintessence in a safe way.”

Tral’s ears tilt back as he concentrates on cutting Keith’s arm. Keith bites his lip but doesn’t flinch, concentrating on his breathing rather than the pain. It doesn’t take long for Tral to get the cut done and insert the needle at the end of the drip into the cut. He holds the needle still and lifts the bottle high enough for the quintessence to trip down into the wound.

Keith fixes his gaze on the screen, watching the bone knit itself together as the pain in Keith’s arm fades. Tral pulls the needle out slowly, the wound sealing itself as the quintessence heals the wound. Soon there’s no sign of Keith’s arm ever being broken.

“You really absorb this stuff,” Tral muses as he pack the quintessence away.

Keith stills, just for a second. “Maybe because I’m only half Galra?”

Tral shrugs as he takes the things away. “That could be it.”

Once the quintessence is safe in the cabinet it came from, Tral sets Keith’s shoulder, and though it’s painful it’s over fast. After checking Keith’s shoulder over, Tral injects it with medication that eases the pain and tension there.

Thace has cleaned his face of blood, and there is no sign of the broken nose or the busted lip anymore. “Do you want tea?” He asks Keith who nods and hops down from the table as Rejya joins them.

Shiro follows them out of the room, but the tension between Thace and Rejya makes Keith stop him. “Could I just... be with my own kind for a moment? Without any of you guys there?”

Shiro hides his hurt fast, and nods. “Sure. I’ll go make sure Allura gets her cuts and bruises checked too.”

Keith starts to incline his head, but nods at the last second. It gets a brief smile out of Shiro and it’s enough to ease the guilt bubbling inside Keith.

Keith follows the Galra to a small room with chairs and couches and coffee tables scattered around. There’s a small kitchenette in the corner and Thace makes them tea while Keith, Tral and Rejya settle in the chairs around a small, oval table.

“Should we just get into it, then?” Thace asks as he takes the chair on Keith’s left.

Rejya frowns. “Your mutinous intentions?”

“I have spent years in the heart of the Empire so I think I’m in a good position to say that the way Kolivan is going about things is not the best one,” Thace replies.

“I know that and I agree, but you’re acting like he doesn’t care about us,” Rejya counters.

“Thace has a point,” Tral cuts in. “We don’t know anything about Voltron or if it can be used against us, even by accident.”

“Of course it can’t,” Rejya scoffs, “we would know if Voltron could be used — “

“Zarkon can take over the Black Lion at will, and he can do so over a considerable distance,” Keith cuts in, earning himself wide eyed stares. “He was the first person to pilot Black, and he did so for decades. He’s forced Shiro out of the Lion by tapping into the bond he shares with Black, and he nearly killed me the first time we met by just wielding a bayard while I was in the Red Lion — and trust me, that was terrifying in itself. Imagine what Zarkon or Haggar could do if they actually got their hands on a Lion… or Voltron.”

The others exchange uncomfortable glances.

“I think we should concern ourselves with what’s being told to us and what’s being kept from us,” Tral says eventually.

“But...” Rejya trails off, seeming lost.

“I don’t think Kolivan is purposefully ignoring the danger not knowing the necessary information poses us. Perhaps he simply doesn’t know about the Emperor’s — Zarkon’s — history with Voltron,” Thace says, offering Rejya a reassuring tilt of his head.

“Allura wouldn’t have told Kolivan about it so I don’t think Kolivan knows the details,” Keith says, his voice dark. “She wouldn’t want that particular secret out there, she didn’t even tell  _ us  _ that Zarkon used to pilot Black and that he still had the bayard until it nearly got us all killed, and almost cost us Voltron. She said it was because she wanted us to bond with the Lions without the burden of their history or something, but it would’ve been nice to know that Zarkon can take over Black and wield a bayard before we faced him. Even Coran didn’t tell us about it and we’d already bonded with the Lions when we went off to face Zarkon.”

Thace purses his lips, his brow furrowing. “I think we are in a worse situation we originally thought. This isn’t just the Blade of Marmora being stuck in the old ways or the way we are dealing with the Empire not being the best possible way to go about it.”

Rejya’s shoulders slump but she doesn’t argue. Neither does Tral. They sit in silence for a long time, slowly sipping their teas and trying to think of a solution to their situation.

“I can’t leave Kolivan just like that,” Rejya says quietly, “but we do need someone to turn to who considers all the information given and withheld from us, as well as all the possible courses of actions as well.”

“I vote Thace,” Tral says.

Thace shakes his head. “No. I’m deep undercover, remember?”

“How about we all keep each other informed and come up with solutions together?” Keith suggests. The others glance at each other and Keith sighs. “I know you guys like clear command structures and all that jazz, but we need to work together to get ourselves and the universe through this in the minimum amount of pieces.”

Thace inclines his head slowly. “The Empire is at a tipping point, and if it descends into chaos the universe will suffer. Billions would die.”

Keith nods. “And we found a ship drifting in space — a Galra scout ship that you guys have at the moment — it hadn’t been damaged in any way but the pilot was gone and the ship was drained of all quintessence. I don’t know if that’s something to be concerned about as well.”

“It is,” Thace replies, his eyes widening slightly, “the Empire has found similar ships, and not all of them were Galran.”

Keith chews his lip, his ears drawing back. “Vazka said that there’s a someone beyond the rift that would take Zarkon’s place and bring peace into the universe.”

“Vazka was insane,” Thace reminds him.

“But what if there’s someone beyond the rift trying to come here. Even Jadri talked about portals.” Keith stares at Thace, daring him to shoot Keith’s concerns down — hoping he will, in a way.

Thace sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“There’s the theory of multiple universes,” Tral says slowly.

Thace throws him a glare. “We’re not going to get into conspiracy theories, our universe has enough problems as it is.”

Tral shrugs and downs the last of his tea. “I’m just saying, weirder stuff has happened. Voltron is back and Zarkon is gone and the way Marda vanished — “

“Don’t talk about her,” Thace snaps. Keith stills, staring at Thace with wide eyes. Thace’s expression softens. “Please?”

“Sorry.” Tral’s ears droop and his voice is apologetic enough to make the last of the tension on Thace’s expression fade.

“I think we ought to see if anyone needs help with their injuries or cleaning up. Perhaps see if the Princess has shared the information about Zarkon,” Rejya says and stands up. She leaves her tea cup in the kitchenette and heads to the door, with Tral at her heels.

Their departure leaves Thace and Keith alone, and they remain silent for a long time.

Eventually Thace clears his throat. “I know I’ve said it before, but I do hope you’ll forgive me someday.”

Keith frowns at his tea before setting the cup down on the table. “I don’t know if I can.”

“I know you can’t see it yet, but I did everything I did only to help you,” Thace says, his voice soft. “You were traumatized, even if you don’t think so. I saw you after your stay in the isolation cells. You were in the Witch’s laboratory, unconscious on the druid’s table. I barely recognized you. The things that were done to you, no matter how much good you think was done after are still there, the horror of what that must have been like is still there, even if you don’t recognize it. You’re better off with your friends than with Zarkon. He would never have helped you deal with the trauma he caused you; he wouldn’t have known how. He could never have understood it. Crude as it may be, but the people you are with now know what it’s like to suffer at the hands of the Empire.”

Keith sighs. “Zarkon did help me.” Keith looks up, meeting Thace’s confused gaze. “He knows what trauma is just like I do, just like Shiro and Allura do too. And saying that the trauma Zarkon’s been through isn’t as good as Allura’s or Shiro’s trauma because you think he’s evil or some shit is a fucked up way of thinking about things, and I want nothing to do with that. You can’t decide who has the right to be hurt or traumatized and in what way based on your personal opinion on them; that’s not a good way of looking at the world.”

Keith shakes his head, casting his eyes to the ground. “We’re all just fucked up people trying to deal with our trauma the best way we know how.”

Thace doesn’t offer a reply, but Keith doesn’t care. After a moment Thace stands and fill their cups with a second helping of tea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna try to do some edits to the next chapters this week so that I don't have to take too much time off from inktober to do that. That way I should be able to get the chapters up a little faster than I originally planned, though there probably won't be weekly updates very often.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's nearly 4am but I got this done. I feel so accomplished. And tired. Mostly tired.

“What do you mean you didn’t kill him?”

Keith sighs. “I just didn’t.”

Haggar frowns. “He is the reason Zarkon is not with us today. He is the reason you are not here, and his actions caused you to lose your bond.”

“I know that,” Keith snaps. “I just... there’s a lot more going on than we thought, okay? The Blade’s got it’s issues and Allura and the Coalition have their issues, and no one’s looking beyond their own problems.”

Haggar tilts her head. “What do you mean?”

“The ships that have been drained of quintessence for starters. What’s up with that?” Keith stares at her, his ears set back in determination.

Haggar leans forward. “How do you know about those?”

“We found one — a Galra scout ship — drifting in space. Thace said you have found ships like that as well,” Keith replies.

Haggar sighs, looking down for a tick. “We do not know what caused the quintessence loss. The closest estimation the druids have for the cause is the Komar, but as it is currently attached to the Central Command we know it hasn’t been used in such a way.”

“Could someone have copied the technology?” Keith asks, settling better against the wall he’s leaning on.

“No,” Haggar says, then tilts her head and frowns, “perhaps, but it would require a quite a leap in logic.”

“How come?”

“The Komar device is based on Alfor’s studies on harvesting quintessence as well as Altean technology, and it requires druid magic to work, and if someone used such a device to cripple the ships, the technology would have to be more advanced than anything we have.” Haggar looks just as uncomfortable with the idea as Keith feels. “We don’t know what happened to the people on the ships, but assuming a Komar like device was used, they are dead, though I am unsure of what happened to the bodies.”

“Or someone figured out a way to use Komar without hurting people, and they’re kidnapping them,” Keith says, his voice more quiet than he intended.

Haggar studies Keith, her expression too serious, and Keith swallows around the lump in his throat. The idea that someone could be using a portable Komar device and attacking people with it, a device that’s more advanced than the one Haggar built, makes Keith’s skin crawl. He wishes he’d brought up any of the dozen other possible topics, and not the damn ships.

“That is a possibility,” Haggar agrees, not sounding happy about it at all, “though an extremely unlikely one.”

“So I didn’t kill Thace, and right now we might need all the allies we can get,” Keith says a little too fast, needing the change in topic, and sits up straighter, “he doesn’t want to go the direction Allura and the Coalition are going; he doesn’t want to upset the Empire’s power structure or bring it down in one go. There are other Blade agents who think like that too. They know bringing down the Empire overnight would do more harm than good.”

“They are still enemies to the Empire,” Haggar points out. “He deserves to die.”

“There’s a saying on Earth: enemy of my enemy is my friend. Thace and the Blade agents who think the way he does don’t want to bring the Empire down the same way the Coalition does, so they’re not an immediate threat to you. And if there’s something out there that has a better version of your Komar device shouldn’t you be concerned with not murdering everyone who could be an ally?” Keith bites his lip, concerned he’s gone too far. “What I mean is, they want the universe safe more than anything. If there’s something attacking everyone, then they’re going to work with you if you try to stop it. It’s better if we work together, even if we might not agree on everything.”

Keith wills himself to believe his words, more to ease his own mind than anything.

Haggar smiles, just a little. “Zarkon used to think like that too.”

Keith blinks, taken aback for a second. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It got Daibazaal destroyed,” Haggar adds.

Keith scowls. “This is now, that was then. Just because things went bad in the past doesn’t mean it’s gonna happen again.”

Haggar looks ready to argue, but the knock on the door makes Keith cut the transmission off and shove the pad under his pillow. “What?”

Thace opens the door, dressed in his Commander’s uniform instead of the Blade one he’d worn before, and Keith quickly hides his surprise at seeing him there.

“Is this a bad time?” Thace asks and Keith shakes his head. Thace steps into the room, glancing around the small space. “This is a very... bright ship.”

“It takes a little getting used to,” Keith replies. “Did you want something?”

“Just to make sure you are doing well.” Thace offers Keith a brief smile. “You were rather upset yesterday and I didn’t get a chance to properly talk about it with you.”

“I’m fine. I don’t actively want to kill you anymore if that’s what you’re worried about; mostly I’m just mad at you,” Keith says, shrugging a shoulder.

“You’re Galra, wanting revenge on behalf of someone close to you is normal. I was expecting it and I didn’t take it personally, so don’t worry about it.”

“How is it normal?” Keith huffs, glancing around the room. “I shouldn’t have wanted to kill you. It made sense before yesterday but... I don’t know.”

“Our emotions run deep,” Thace reminds Keith, circling the room. “It’s in our nature to want to harm — even kill — those who have taken our loved ones from us. You have just gotten that need out of your system so it might seem silly that you even had it in the first place, but it’s nothing you need to worry about. I haven’t been harmed or offended in any way.”

Keith shrugs, playing with the edge of the hem of his shirt. “I don’t know if I could forgive something like that.”

Thace stops in the middle of the room, fixing his gaze on Keith. “You are family, you know that, right?”

Keith swallows and glances away.

Thace kneels on the floor in front of Keith. “Hey, you are family — to me and to Haala, even to Marzila. We will always be here for you.”

“Kinda hard for you guys to do that when there’s a war between us and you and Shiro and the others are keeping me trapped here,” Keith mutters, still not meeting Thace’s eyes.

Thace remains silent for a long moment before he pulls his luxite blade. “Take it.”

Keith blinks, then takes the offered blade, turning it in his hands. He almost says he used to have one similar to it.

“A Blade’s honor and life is tied to their luxite blade. I want you to keep mine — so you’ll always have a connection to me and to us who think of you as family,” Thace says, his voice serious. “As long as you hold my blade, I am with you. As long as you have the blade, I will protect you with my life and with my spirit.”

Keith swallows and nods weakly.

Thace smiles and takes Keith’s hand, still clasped around the hilt of the blade. “I must return to the Empire now.” He stands, bowing slightly before heading to the door. Keith expects him to walk out, but Thace stops, hesitating before turning around. “He’s not dead, you know?”

Keith doesn’t have to guess who Thace is talking about, but hearing him admit it shocks him. “I know,” he still manages to say.

Thace studies Keith for a moment before inclining his head and taking the final step to the door.

“How’s Haala?” Keith asks before Thace can open the door.

Thace stills, then turns around. “Haala’s fine. He’s returning to the Central Command with Marzila soon. They’ll be safe there.”

Keith gives Thace a weak smile. “Good. That’s good.”

Thace inclines his head and opens the door. Keith almost tells him to not go; he almost tells Thace Haggar knows he’s a Blade agent, but the words get tangled in his throat, and by the time he’s ready to speak the door has already closed.

Keith sits there for a tick, frozen until reality hits him and he pulls the pad out again, and calls Haggar.

“If you don’t hurt Thace or let him know you know he’s a member of the Blade of Marmora we can use him to keep track on what the Blade knows and even feed false information to the Coalition,” Keith blurts out as soon as Haggar answers the call.

She blinks and tilts her head, then sighs. “You have an annoying habit of coming up with good reasons to get your way.”

“I know, Zarkon told me,” Keith replies.

“Controlling the information this Coalition receives would be beneficial to us,” Haggar muses. “I suppose we could keep him alive and around as long as he is useful.”

“Thank you,” Keith breathes. He chews his lip, then asks, “how’s Zarkon?”

Haggar sighs. “We have managed to slow the spread of the magic the Princess struck him with, but the damage is considerable and we have no way to properly counter it. The magic she used is too volatile and it’s eating him from the inside — attacking the natural quintessence in him, in a way.”

Keith frowns. “I’ll try to get you something on Allura’s magic, I promise. Just take care of him until then.”

“I will.”

Keith lets Haggar get back to her work after that, and starts thinking of ways to find out about Allura’s magic without raising any alarms.

 

* * *

 

Shiro sets his shoulders and knocks on Keith’s door, not bothering to wait for Keith to answer before opening it. This isn’t something he’s looking forward to doing, but he’d rather be the one to talk to Keith than let any of the others do it; none of them are exactly happy with what happened the day before.

“We need to talk,” Shiro states as soon as he’s in the room, crossing his arms while Keith pushes himself off the bed, hoping to be done with the situation as soon as possible. “The way you went after Thace wasn’t okay.”

Keith shrugs. “I just sorted that out with Thace. There’s nothing to talk about.”

“There is, though,” Shiro replies, “you were out of line.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “Excuse me?”

“You tried to kill him! You can’t just try to kill people, that’s not okay.”

“And you’re applying human and Altean morals into something they have no place being applied to,” Keith counters.

Shiro resists the urge to throw his arms in the air. “Well, you’re living with humans and Alteans, so you need to respect our morals a little. You can’t just do things and say that it’s okay by Galra standards so we have to accept it. And besides, you grew up with humans so you know better than to try to kill someone because they pissed you off.”

“You promised you’d accept me as I am now,” Keith says, his voice dangerously quiet. “I can’t help it if I react to things in a way that’s more Galran, and I haven’t had to monitor my feelings and reactions for over a year, so excuse me if I’m not keen on going back to doing that especially when I got turned into a member of another species, and I don’t know how to be like this well enough to predict all my reactions yet.”

Shiro sighs and casts his gaze to the floor for a second before looking back up. “I do accept you as you are, but that doesn’t mean that you can just do what you like. The others aren’t going to be okay with what you did just because you say it’s some Galran thing. We’re all living together and we all have to make adjustments and take each other into consideration.”

Keith grits his teeth, his brow knitting together and his tail snapping angrily from side to side. “You could take _me_ into consideration every once in a while.”

Shiro frowns, his jaw clenching. “We have been doing nothing but take you into consideration since we saved you — “

“Kidnapped me.”

“— and all we ask is that you at least stop and consider how things look from our perspective.”

Keith looks away and scowls at the wall.

Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Just think about it, okay?”

Keith doesn’t say anything. Shiro grits his teeth and when it becomes clear Keith isn’t going to acknowledge him anymore Shiro leaves him alone and marches down the hallway, not really having a destination but needing to put some distance between him and Keith. He runs into Matt as he rounds a corner, and going by the look on Matt’s face he’d been expecting Shiro to be in a foul mood.

Matt falls in step with Shiro, his hands shoved in his pockets and his pose purposefully relaxed. “I take it your talk didn’t go too well?”

Shiro sighs. “I get where he’s coming from with the whole ‘I’m a Galra now and I want to be accepted as one’ thing, but sometimes it’s like he’s trying to be _only_ Galra and shove everything human away.”

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Matt says, sounding apologetic. “The Galra messed with his head.”

Shiro shakes his head, his shoulders slumping as they round another corner. “I don’t think it’s just that; they accepted him as he is. Or that’s what Keith says. You know what he was like in the Garrison, that must’ve been such a relief to him.”

“I can’t believe he’s one of them,” Matt says, “I mean, it’s _Keith_ , he’s supposed to be one of _us_.”

Shiro frowns. “He’s still one of us, he’s just different now.”

Matt winces. “Sure, sorry. I just mean that, well, my experiences with the Galra aren’t the best and I’m still not used to them being good guys.”

Shiro offers him a brief smile. “You’ll get used to it.”

“I hope so,” Matt replies.

Somehow they’ve ended up in the hangar, and Matt stops by his shuttle, turning to Shiro with a contemplative look on his face. “Could you do me a favor? Pidge won’t ask for it.”

Shiro nods, his curiosity piqued. “Sure.”

“Could you ask Keith if he heard anything about our dad while he was with the Galra?” Matt’s shoulder’s inch up momentarily before he stands up to his full height.

“Of course,” Shiro promises readily, then adds, “after Keith’s calmed down a little. He’s more likely to tell things when he’s in a good mood.”

Matt nods, a relieved smile spreading on his face. “Thank you.”

They say their goodbyes and Shiro returns to wandering about the Castleship to calm his nerves and to think. He barely gets out of the hangar before running into Thace. He jumps, shocked to see the Galra Commander uniform for a second before his brain catches up with reality and he remembers that Thace is a friend.

“I’m sorry if I scared you,” Thace says.

“It’s fine. I wasn’t looking where I was going,” Shiro replies.

Thace observes Shiro with too sharp eyes. “Is something wrong? You seem upset.”

Shiro could say a million things, deny that anything is wrong, and he almost does, but this is Thace and Thace is the only person who had been there while Zarkon had warped Keith into what he wanted Keith to be. “Keith, he’s... I’m sorry he tried to kill you.”

Thace cocks his head. “Why?”

Shiro blinks, confused. “Because people trying to kill you isn’t okay?”

Thace purses his lips, his ears twitching slightly. “Keith is Galra.”

“I get it — “

“I don’t think you do,” Thace cuts in, “he holds me responsible for what happened with Zarkon, and I would have been shocked if he hadn’t tried to kill me. You’re lucky he blames me for it all and not you.”

Shiro frowns, trying to understand what Thace is saying. “But he’s also human, and we don’t go around trying to kill each other just because we’re pissed.”

Thace shakes his head minutely. “As I’ve told Keith, our emotions run deep. He cannot fight hundreds of thousands of years of instinct telling him to take revenge on the person he holds responsible for taking his lover away. You shouldn’t blame him for it, I don’t. Keith and I have sorted our differences out and I would hope you’ll let it go. It’s between us, not you.”

Shiro’s frown deepens and he crosses his arms, looking down as he mulls over Thace’s words.

“I know it can be hard for outsiders to understand us, but if you want to keep Keith here with you, you are going to have to make an effort to do just that. Or you should let him go to stay with the Blade, they won’t have a problem with his behavior,” Thace says.

Shiro sighs. “I suppose you have a point.”

Thace inclines his head. “If you’ll excuse me, I have to go get scolded at by Kolivan one last time.”

The corners of Shiro’s lips quirk up. “Good luck.”

Thace offers Shiro a brief smile before continuing on his way. Shiro looks after him until he disappears around the corner, and after Thace has disappeared from his sight, Shiro continues on his own way, feeling more conflicted than before.

 

* * *

 

Keith leaves his room as soon as he’s sure Shiro isn’t close by anymore, and he takes the long route to the Black Lion. He can’t pilot the Lion, but since Shiro hasn’t given the black bayard back to Keith — he probably never will give it back to him now — the Black Lion is the only thing that helps Keith feel a little closer to Zarkon.

To Keith’s relief, Black lets him in, even if she remains unresponsive to him. Keith enters the cockpit and takes the seat, slumping on it with a heavy sigh. He closes his eyes and lets his mind drift, hoping to feel the bond but not expecting it to happen.

Keith might fall asleep, he isn’t sure, but when he next opens his eyes Coran is there, crouching down in front of him. “I worry about you,” Coran says.

Keith scowls. “I’m fine.”

Coran’s smile turns sad. “I don’t think you are.”

Keith shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Would you mind telling me what bothers you?” Coran asks.

As tempted as Keith is to remain silent and not tell Coran anything, the weight in his chest is suffocating him and he’s not sure if he can survive if he keeps it all to himself. “I’m not human — I might not even have human at all in me and I don’t know how to tell that to Shiro —  and everyone keeps expecting me to act like a human even though my entire DNA has been altered and I _can’t._ I can’t just act like I used to. I don’t even want to. I don’t want to go back to watching everything I do and thinking over every word I’m about to say.”

Keith buries his face in his hands and holds back a scream.

“I’m sure no one has meant to make you feel like you can’t be yourself. And Allura told me about your possible Altean origins, so I think it would do you good to explore the kind of person you want to be.”

“I don’t think I want to be Altean,” Keith mutters.

Coran frowns. “Why not?”

Keith barks a hapless laugh. “I’m not like you or Allura, and I can’t pretend to be like you. I’ve never felt more at home than when I was with the Galra so I know that’s what I’m most like. At least if I’m part human I have an easier time watching the way I act because humans aren’t as... well... like you guys are.”

Coran laughs, shaking his head. “Allura is a princess and I have worked for royalty my whole life, we’re not the only kind of Alteans that existed.”

“Why can’t I just be like the Galra? Why is that such a bad thing?” Keith’s voice is quieter than he intended, and his ears droop.

Coran sighs. “The Galra were never a particularly liked race. They’re too closed off, too suspicious of others, too aggressive and unyielding. They were proud and looked down on others, and now that they’ve taken over the universe — with the horrors they’ve committed — people just don’t understand why you would want to be one of them when you have better options.”

“Not better,” Keith snaps.

Coran tilts his head, his expression dubious. “Well, different, at least. Races that have a better reputation.”

“I just want to be myself, and that means being Galra as well as human or Altean, so sometimes I’m going to _act_ like a Galra,” Keith says.

The line of Coran’s mouth hardens minutely, but he nods. “If you think that’s what’s best for you.”

Keith inclines his head. “I miss Zarkon,” he says, surprising himself as much as Coran.

Coran glances away, uncomfortable for a moment before taking a deep breath and turning back to Keith. “I can’t say I feel the same way, but if he’s still anything like he used to be, I can understand why you would feel that way.”

Keith smiles, just for a moment. “I don’t know what he used to be like.”

Coran’s eyes fill with tired sadness. “He was charming, in his own way. He loved his people more than anything and there was a kindness to him that Alfor tried to encourage, but ultimately he failed, as the current state of the universe shows.”

“He still care about his people,” Keith says, “and he is kind, in his own way. He was kind to me.”

Keith shifts, setting his shoulders, his ears drawing back. “He said that if Alfor had helped him instead of pushing him away when the quintessence started affecting him, then he wouldn’t have gone evil or whatever. He said that Alfor didn’t have to destroy Daibazaal and that he left everything important to the Galra on the planet and the people themselves without even a place to go when they were hurting. Zarkon said Alfor didn’t even apologize when he confronted him about it — he said he just wanted to know why Alfor took the first chance he could to destroy Daibazaal and without even asking Zarkon’s opinion, but Alfor waved him off and told him to be grateful for what he’d done.”

Coran blinks slowly. “Alfor said that destroying Daibazaal was the best option they had on such short notice. Zarkon had tricked them into widening the rift that had opened on the planet, and they had no way of closing it anymore. And Alfor couldn’t have asked Zarkon’s opinion; Zarkon — at the time of Daibazaal’s destruction — was dead.”

Keith scoffs. “Obviously he wasn’t dead.”

Coran’s serious expression silences Keith fast. “He was. There was no pulse, and he wasn’t breathing. Alfor even tried reviving him with our instruments to no avail, Zarkon had no life signs whatsoever. And when he came back“ — Coran shudders — “we were all shocked. He didn’t move like Zarkon, didn’t talk like him — his voice and tone was all wrong even if the words themselves were Zarkon’s — there was nothing of the Zarkon we’d known in him anymore. And he was cold — not just the way he behaved, but his skin. The Galra are usually warm to the touch but he was freezing cold. We scanned him while he was onboard the Castleship and… it was... he wasn’t _normal._ We couldn’t even pick up a heartbeat from him.”

Keith frowns. “He’s not cold. Trust me, I’ve had about the most close contact possible with him, he’s hot — and I don’t mean that he’s in great shape for someone of his age — he’s a walking furnace. And he’s got a heartbeat. I listened to it often enough to memorize it.”

Coran hums, his expression turning thoughtful. “That is interesting, but considering the fact that he shouldn’t even be alive, it is not entirely surprising.”

Keith nods slowly. He’s about to ask Coran more about the time before Altea’s destruction when Allura of all people joins them.

“Shiro said you might be here,” she says, glancing at Keith with an unreadable expression. “What are you talking about?”

“Zarkon,” Coran answers, “we were discussing the time right after Daibazaal’s destruction.”

Allura’s eyes darkens, but she schools her expression quickly and turns to Keith. “I was hoping to ask you something.”

“Go on,” Keith says, dreadful and curious at the same time.

“Since you know how to use multiple bayard forms — “

“I don’t want to talk about that and I’m not teaching anyone.”

Allura levels Keith with a stern look. “I was wondering if you learned anything about the druids. Specifically their magic. You’ve obviously been learning quite a lot of interesting things with the Galra.”

Keith bites his lip, his tail flicking against the seat. “I — kind of? I mean, I know about the quintessence they use, and Haggar did this... I don’t know. It was like an energy ball?” Keith tries to remember how he’d felt in that moment — Haggar’s palms pressed against his hands, the energy of her magic and the power thrumming through his veins.

Allura kneels by Keith’s side, her eyes shining in excitement. “Do you think you could help me figure out my magic? None of us know anything about the druid magic and I could use the help of someone who has at least some idea of how that works.”

This might exactly the kind of opportunity to learn about Allura’s magic Keith needs, and the realization makes Keith still for a second. It seems too easy, but he’s not really in a position to start questioning things — not if he wants to help Zarkon. “Sure,” he blurts out, still trying to process what’s happening.

Allura smiles, and her joy of having Keith agree with her does a fairly good job hiding the tenseness lingering on her face. “Thank you.”

Keith shrugs. “Just let me know when you want to start, as long as it’s not today.”

“I think tomorrow would be better,” Allura says as she stands up. “Maybe around noon?”

Keith inclines his head and Allura leaves the cockpit.

“Perhaps we should be going as well,” Coran muses.

Keith agrees with him and soon he follows Coran out of the Black Lion. He needs to ask Haggar if she has some advice on how to approach helping Allura with her magic later on.

Maybe after a cup of the tea Coran is talking about brewing.

 

* * *

 

The news that Haggar has taken her druids and left Draizagal reach Lotor later than he would like — a varga and a half after she has left the planet, to be exact.

Lotor rushes back home and rummages through what little Haggar has left behind in her laboratoires, even going as far as looking through the entire wing his Father had given her. He finds nothing.

Haggar has taken everything with her.

What Lotor does find — hidden deep in the bowels of the Palace — is a room that clearly had held equipment that used high amounts of quintessence, going by the large empty canisters and the cords scattered across the ground. Lotor frowns, studying the faint scratches on the floor, like something heavy had been dragged across the room.

Lotor stops in the middle of the room and lets his eyes drift across the empty space. This must be where Haggar had kept his father.

His father had been here, and Haggar had taken him... somewhere.

Lotor marches out of the room and away from Haggar’s laboratory, towards the upper levels where his generals and his father’s commanders are waiting for him. To explain why he had visited the empty laboratories before seeing them, Lotor snatches a lonely memory chip from the druid’s tables as he passes them. He won’t have to tell anyone what is supposed to be on it, but it will help to show it if someone questions him.

Narti is the first person Lotor meets, and she falls in step with him, following him as he makes his way to the throne room where the rest of his generals as well as the few commanders Haggar had allowed into the Palace are waiting for him. Lotor knows only Zykov by name, and he has seen two of the other three often enough to be familiar with them, even though he cannot recall their names. Lotor does not recognize the third commanders standing away from the others at all, but his attention does not linger on him either, not when he has Zykov to concern himself with.

Zykov is a hulking man with dark markings traveling down the sides of his scaly face and a missing ear, and he thinks himself far more important than he is, in Lotor’s opinion. Zykov sneers at Lotor, who ignores him in favor of focusing on Acxa. “I trust everything has gone well?”

The line of Acxa’s mouth hardens, the only indication Lotor needs to be on guard.

“What do you want?” Lotor asks the commanders as he marches towards the throne. He stops a mere few steps in front of it, the oppressive sense of his father standing just out of his line of sight making sitting down seem wrong. Lotor scowls at himself, only fixing a more neutral expression on his face as he turns around and clasps his hands behind his back as if he never intended to actually take the seat, just stand on the dais and stare down on everyone else.

Zykov shrugs and glances at the two commanders by his side. “We have some questions about our orders.”

Lotor makes an effort not to let his expression change. “Go on.”

“Shouldn’t we be hunting down the Rebellion and Voltron rather than do supply runs?”

Lotor tilts his head a fraction to the left, his mouth thinning as he considers Zykov. “You should be doing what I tell you to do. Or do you consider our colonies less important than spending time looking for a group of people who are in hiding?”

Zykov — to Lotor’s surprise — takes a step towards him. “I think the people would agree with us that taking on the _gazyu_ who took the Emperor from us should be a priority.”

Lotor grits his teeth. “No one has taken Father from anyone, he is merely indisposed.”

“He’s been ‘indisposed’ for quite some time now,” Zykov points out, taking another step forward, now standing at the bottom of the dais.

“The druids are caring for him and I trust their abilities enough to not be concerned,” Lotor replies, his voice steady despite the tension rising in his body.

Zykov steps on the bottom step of the dais. “They ought to work faster.”

Lotor frowns then, refusing to budge even when Zykov closes the distance between them.

Zykov studies Lotor, openly condescending in a way no one should be in the presence of their Emperor — temporary or otherwise. “People are not going to tolerate a half-breed on the throne for long, and neither your father or the Witch are here to protect you.”

Lotor doesn’t react outwardly — unlike his generals who all take a step towards them, their hands on their weapons — but inside he’s bracing himself, ready to defend himself to death if need be. “You should watch what you say to your Emperor.”

“You are not my Emperor,” Zykov shoots back.

“I am your Emperor until my father wishes to take the throne back, and there is nothing you can do about it.” Lotor keeps his voice steady, considering the possibility of striking Zykov down but deciding against it, not wanting to seem weak by reacting too fast.

Zykov huffs, glancing at the two commanders accompanying him before focusing on Lotor again. “Perhaps we should consider a change in leadership.”

A chill runs down Lotor’s spine, but he doesn’t let anyone else to see it. “Be very careful of what you say next.”

Zykov sneers at Lotor. “Why should I? A mutt like you doesn’t scare me.”

As much as Lotor hates doing it, he doesn’t see another way of ending the situation in a safe way. “My father — “

“Your father,” Zykov scoffs, baring his teeth just for a tick. “He has grown soft in his old age. We have not hunted down and claimed Voltron as our own despite them and their allies attacking us on weekly basis for over a year now. He allows you on the throne. He had us ship water to a planet because ‘the workers will get more done if they are hydrated’? He hasn’t been to the Arena for a year — except to see that _itsa tezhul_ of his fight. Speaking of which, your father, _the Emperor,_ welcomed an outsider — a Paladin of Voltron no less — into his bed. No matter how much he and the Witch tried to make him look like us, we all know the truth. Shouldn’t be a surprise, really, considering that _you_ exist.”

Lotor grits his teeth, fighting back the urge to rip Zykov’s throat out.

Zykov leans down, his breath hitting Lotor’s face, forcing him to suppress the urge to lean back. “You should’ve been killed the day you were born. You should never have been allowed a claim on the throne; your entire existence brings nothing but shame to the Galra.”

“Zykov.”

Zykov spins to glare at the commander standing away from the others in the edges of the room. “Thace,” he spits out, his ears flattening.

Thace cocks his head. “Would you mind letting me report in? I have other things I’d rather be doing than listening you spout poorly formed opinions on matters you know nothing about.”

Zykov bristles while Lotor is unsure if he should be offended that Thace thinks he has any right to step in and try to get Zykov to back down or amused by how shocked Zykov is that he did so.

After a moment Zykov shrugs and throws one last glare at Lotor before descending the steps of the dais and joining his commanders. “Do as you please. I have a Rebellion to quash.”

“You are not going after Voltron,” Lotor states, barely remembering to remain calm like his father had always told him to do.

Zykov laughs. “I don’t take orders from the likes of you.”

Lotor takes a step forward and lets his hands fall to his sides. “If you do not follow the orders given to you I promise you will regret it for the rest of your short and miserable existence.”

Zykov lifts an eyebrow. “You think you have any power to follow through with that threat? Why do you think the Witch took your father in the dead of night with her druids and never told anyone where they were going?”

Zykov nods his head towards the doors and the two commanders follow him out of the throne room.

“Sir?” Acxa studies Lotor with poorly hidden concern in her eyes.

“See where they go and what they do,” Lotor orders. His generals bow and — with a suspicious glance thrown in Thace’s direction — leave the room.

Once Thace is alone with Lotor, he walks to the dais and stops at a respectful distance, offering Lotor a deep bow. “I was to report for duty to the High Priestess, but she is not here anymore and she left no orders for me. I have my ongoing projects that I can return to, but I wanted to make sure the High Priestess didn’t leave orders to me that I haven’t seen, or that you don’t require anything from me.”

Lotor studies Thace, trying to place the name with the face before him. “You were with my father when he was injured.”

Thace inclines his head. “I tried to protect Keith. but the Paladins of Voltron and the Galra with them overpowered me. I regret allowing that to happen.”

Lotor narrows his eyes, just for a tick. An odd feeling passes over him, but it fades before he can grasp it. “Do you agree with Zykov’s assessment of my father?”

Thace’s ears twitch back minutely. “I think the Emperor seemed... happier, with Keith around, and the way he ran the Empire didn’t suffer from it at all. As for the water he ordered us to take to the Loe, it was cheap to harvest and their work performance doubled, which made it possible for us to utilize the minerals they mine faster and even cut back on costs in some areas, so it was a perfectly logical decision.”

“And what of him allowing a half-Galra in his bed?” Lotor asks, just to gauge Thace’s reaction to it.

Thace hides his discomfort quickly. “The Emperor is allowed to take anyone he sees fit into his bed. I have nothing against Keith; he is a Galra even if he did not look like one when he came to us, and he was devoted to your father. If his presence kept the Emperor form going to the Arena, I see nothing wrong with that, though I understand that his presence there meant a lot to many of the people there.”

Lotor walks down the dais circling the room at a slow pace. Thace joins his side. “Father has little interest in the fights these days, as he has observed the fights for centuries now. He rarely goes to the Arena unless Haggar is presenting one of his beasts or if there is a fighter from a species we haven’t encountered before.”

Thace inclines his head.

Lotor glances at him. “Were you close to my father?”

“I would not say close, but I did tutor Keith in our language so I suppose I did have a unique relationship with him,” Thace replies.

“Are you in good standing with the other commanders?” Lotor asks, careful to keep his voice casual.

Thace’s expression hardens minutely. “For the most part, yes. I’m also on good terms with most of the lieutenants in the Central Command, as I worked with them until last year.”

“Then you know if they agree with Zykov’s assessment of my father.” Lotor stops, turning to face Thace. “Don’t you?”

Thace frowns. “I have heard whispers of discontent, here and there. I didn’t think too much of it at the time.”

“Do you agree with them?”

“No,” Thace replies immediately. Lotor studies his face, trying to spot the lie but unable to find it. For now that, along with the knowledge that his father had trusted Keith’s education and wellbeing in Thace’s hands, is all Lotor needs to trust Thace with a mission.

“Then you are going to help me,” Lotor says, leveling Thace with a serious look. “Find out which of the commanders agree with Zykov and report them to me. I also want you to put together a team of people you trust, in case Zykov tries anything. I am able to protect myself and I have my generals, and Haggar will protect Father with her life, but I want to have a team of qualified, trustworthy people at my disposal should I need it, and you blend in better in the Empire than my generals do.”

Thace inclines his head. “I have a few ideas on who to get. As for finding out how deep the discontent goes, I will require some time on that. I may be in good standing with most of the commanders, but I am unsure if they trust me enough to outright tell me if they are considering an uprising.”

“I understand that, but remember that the faster we know who we can and cannot trust the better,” Lotor replies.

Thace bows. “Of course, Sire.”

Lotor waves him away, but keeps a close eye on Thace’s retreating back until he’s out of the doors. Only then does Lotor allow himself take in a sharp breath, the gravity of the situation he’s in hitting him at full force. He clenches his shaking hands into fists until his claws nearly dig through his gloves, trying to collect himself again so that he can figure out his next move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapters are a bit of a mess since I did some small rewrites last week but I'll try to get them edited relatively soon.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I saw Venom and got plunged into that fandom and I forgot I have a fic to edit. I'm not apologizing, just stating a fact.

Helping Allura with her magic is a lot easier said than done.

Lance hovers in the corner of the training room while Keith tries to help Allura figure out how to use her magic. He’s doing so without the help of Haggar since she hadn’t responded when Keith had tried to contact her, and he’d never heard back from her — which is makes Keith wonder what’s going on with her since she’s been easy to reach up to that point — and it makes things difficult, to say the least.

The lack of help had also forced Keith to grudgingly admit that Haggar had shown him how it feels to have the pure energy of her magic between his hands — both Allura and Lance had been shocked to learn about it — but at least he can tell Allura how the magic had felt. She listens to his halting explanation intently.

“I know that feeling,” Allura says, “it’s rather... intoxicating.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees, inclining his head slightly. “I think that feeling is important, somehow. That, and the quintessence.”

Allura frowns. “The quintessence?”

Keith nods, thinking back to Haggar’s quintessence pool and the druids he’d seen interact with the substance. “The druids... kind of absorb quintessence, I guess? Or they have an ability to generate enough of it to use the excess for their magic. I’m not sure, but the quintessence is important.”

Allura’s frown deepens as she thinks about it. “Every time I’ve been able to use my magic there has been large amounts of quintessence around me.”

“So maybe we should get you some quintessence,” Keith suggests, “preferably the kind the druids use for their magic. I think that’d be the safest kind to start with.”

Allura nods. “I think so too.”

“Just one problem,” Lance cuts in. “Where are we going to get quintessence the druids use for their magic? I’m pretty sure we can’t just walk up to one and ask them for a bottle.”

Lance crosses his arms and raises a pointed eyebrow, his eyes fixed on Keith.

Keith shrugs, his tail twitching in annoyance. “I don’t know.”

“Of course you don’t,” Lance grumbles, “you probably think that we should just go to the nearest refining facility and steal some and not worry about everything that could go wrong with  _ using special druid magic quintessence!  _ Are you insane?” Lance throws his hands in the air, staring at Keith like he just grew a second set of ears. “Do you have any idea how dangerous that could be? Not only to Allura but to us as well?”

“I know that,” Keith mutters, looking away from Lance.

“I need to do this,” Allura says, her voice shutting Lance up before he can do more than draw in a breath. “I need to learn to control this thing; I’ve already hurt my friends once, I don’t want to do that ever again.”

Lance sighs, his shoulders slumping. “Can we at least plan this out?”

Allura nods, smiling softly at Lance before turning her attention to Keith. “Is that alright with you?”

Keith shrugs. “Sure.”

They leave the training deck, none of them seeing a reason to remain there since Allura can’t practice her magic. She heads to the bridge to see if they have information on any facility they could raid for the quintessence they’ll need.

Keith heads the other direction, surprised and a little frustrated when Lance follows him. Keith frowns at him, his ears drawing back. “What do you want now?”

Lance shoves his hands in his pockets. “Nothing. Why would I want anything from you?”

Keith stops. “You’ve been bitchy for days.”

“You tried to murder someone,” Lance points out, “you should be locked up in a cell, if you ask me.”

Keith’s blood runs cold. “I’ve spent enough time locked in a cell.”

“That’s what Shiro said,” Lance mutters under his breath, but Keith’s ears still pick his words up.

“And besides,” Keith continues, raising his voice just a little, “Thace and I sorted our differences out. Just because you have a problem with something you don’t understand doesn’t make it wrong.”

Lance scowls and moves closer to Keith until he’s well within Keith’s personal space. “Just keep your Galra weirdness to yourself.”

Keith’s ears flatten further, but he doesn’t say anything. Lance glares at him, and Keith glares right back at him. Eventually Lance takes a step back, studying Keith for a second longer before walking away.

Keith stares after him, his tail flicking from side to side. Keith supposes Lance’s attitude shouldn’t surprise him, but it still hurts to hear someone who is supposed to be.. maybe not his friend but someone Keith had at one point considered a teammate talk like that.

Keith shakes his head and sets his jaw before heading back to his room. He doesn’t feel like spending time with the others anymore.

 

* * *

 

“Did you talk to him yet?” Matt asks, the image of him flickering on Shiro’s computer screen.

“No, sorry. He seemed okay this morning but now he’s in a bad mood again,” Shiro replies, slumping in his seat.

Matt opens his mouth, but the rumble from outside the Rebel base he’s in distracts him. “Damn storm,” he mutters, then turns to Shiro. “The weather’s messing up our comms.”

“You guys gonna be alright up there?” Shiro asks, his tone turning more serious.

Matt nods. “Yeah, as long as we don’t go outside.”

The image of him flickers again, as if to empathize Matt’s point about the weather.

“Has Keith told you anything useful about Zarkon or the Empire yet?” Matt asks.

Shiro sighs and shakes his head. “No. Sometimes I think he’s on their side. He even got mad at me for criticizing Zarkon.”

Matt huffs. “Did you say his name in the wrong tone or something?”

Shiro groans. “No, I did have a legitimate concerns about him being, you know, a planet conquering tyrant.”

Matt pretends to be shocked. “That’s horrible. I didn’t know he was so bad.”

Shiro laughs despite himself, doing his best to ignore the bang of guilt swelling inside him. “Yeah, though it got Keith pretty mad.”

“Worse than with... what was his name?” Matt frowns.

“The guy from Keith’s politics class or the one who kept flirting with other people behind his back and whose nose Keith broke? Because he got upset at me over both,” Shiro says, even though he should be telling Matt that this isn’t a conversation they should be having.

“Why?” Matt asks, his voice as confused as his expression.

Shiro shrugs. “Well, I told him that the guy who ended up being a total ass seemed off and Keith didn’t like that — even after Keith found out what he’d been doing and the whole mess that followed that — then he started going out with the guy from his class and I was just a little surprised about it and I guess it showed? I don’t know. I didn’t even have a problem with him, he just didn’t seem like someone Keith would go for.”

Matt purses his lips. “Well... he’s been through a lot. Maybe he’s just touchy about his relationships because of that?”

“Maybe.” Shiro sighs. “Though after what he did to Thace I wouldn’t be surprised if Keith decided it was a Galra thing.”

Matt offers Shiro a sympathetic look. Shiro isn’t sure he wants it; he shouldn’t be complaining about Keith and he shouldn’t be talking about things that happened years ago. But it eases his mind, in a way, like some of the frustration weighing Shiro down every time he thinks of Keith melts away.

“He’s gonna come around,” Matt assures Shiro, “and you can tell him how you feel once he’s gotten over Zarkon and take him to a space cafe or something.”

Shiro winces.

“What?” Matt frowns, leaning closer to his screen.

“I kinda already told him how I feel,” Shiro admits without meeting Matt’s eyes. “Accidentally.”

Matt stares at Shiro with an expressionless face, the storm raging on outside the Rebel base the only sound in the deafening silence surrounding them. Then Matt groans and hangs his head, running his hands through his hair. “You’re a hopeless disaster, you know that?”

“I know,” Shiro says. “He didn’t take that well either, in case you were wondering.”

Matt looks up, his expression tired. “Why am I not surprised?”

Shiro shrugs. “Because it’s me?”

“That’s probably it,” Matt replies, smirking slightly, “you’re — “ he swirls around at the loud bang even Shiro hears over the crackling comms, tense all of the sudden. Shiro sits up as well.

“I think the others are having some trouble,” Matt says, slowly turning back towards Shiro. “I should go see if they need help.”

Shiro nods. “You do that. I’ll talk to Keith as soon as he’s in a better mood.”

Matt offers Shiro a brief smile. “Thanks.”

They say their goodbyes and Matt cuts the transmission, leaving Shiro to stare at a darkened screen.

Shiro sighs and pushes himself up, and heads out of his room to find Pidge and to tell him that his brother might be unreachable for a few days due to the storm.

 

* * *

 

Keith and Allura recruit Hunk to come with them to steal a bottle of quintessence, but they leave the others behind. Kolivan sends Tral with them, saying that it will be beneficial for them to have someone who can read Galran in their team. It’s a weak excuse to have someone keep an eye on Keith since Keith is capable of reading Galran as well, and Keith lets Kolivan know it. He’s not surprised when Kolivan shrugs his accusations off without a word.

Tral — thankfully — is pleasant company. He’s excited about seeing the inside of the Blue Lion they end up taking on their trip. The Altean technology fascinates him, and Allura and Hunk explain the basics of the Lion’s operations to him without giving too much away, not that Tral minds; he’s happy to be familiar with the basics.

“Won’t there be druids there?” Hunk asks as they near the small ship transporting the quintessence. “You know, if it’s transporting some special quintessence they use?”

“I’d imagine so,” Keith replies, checking the blade Thace had given him and the black bayard he’d talked Shiro into borrowing him again.

“A ship the size of the one we are going to take on should have two to four druids on board, with fifteen to twenty officers and sentries,” Tral says.

“How many sentries?” Hunk asks.

“At least one for each person on board, usually more,” Tral replies, his expression turning serious.

“Then we’ll just have to be careful,” Allura states. “Be ready with the scrambler.”

Tral inclines his head. He’d brought the prototype of a Blade device designed to hide a small scout ship from the Galra sensors, and though they’re not sure if it will hide something as big as a Voltron Lion, they thought it’s worth a try.

“Okay, I’ve got the ship on my sensors. We should be within visual range in five dobashes,” Allura says after a tense minute.

Tral activates the scrambler, delicately adjusting the frequencies to block the Galra’s scanners while Keith and Hunk ready themselves for boarding the ship.

“Something’s wrong,” Tral says, catching everyone’s attention. “I can’t find the signal from that ship. Are you sure we’re in range?”

“Yes,” Allura replies.

Keith glances from her to Tral, then meets Hunk’s eyes briefly before touching Allura’s shoulder. “Slow down. Lets approach with caution and see what’s going on.”

Allura does as Keith instructs immediately. Keith remains there by her side, scanning the space before them through the transparent flux of information Allura is focused on.

It takes them a small eternity to see the ship, and Keith’s blood runs cold at the sight. The ship is drifting, and there’s a deep, scar like gash on the side of it, the kind the Lions cannons might create.

Hunk swallows. “Allura?”

“I see it,” she replies, her voice hard.

“What did that?” Tral asks as he joins the others by Allura’s side.

“I don’t know,” Allura replies. “It does look almost like Voltron has attacked it, but we didn’t do this, and I don’t know of anyone who might be able to create anything similar to the Voltron Lions — they are the height of Altean technology and there is nothing like them in the universe.”

“Lets check it out,” Keith says, already putting his helmet on. “We need the quintessence, and the answers to what did that are on that ship.”

“I agree with him,” Tral says, pointing at Keith for emphasis.

“I don’t know,” Hunk says, rubbing his neck.

Allura remains quiet for a long moment before setting her shoulders and her jaw. “That looks like something Voltron’s technology —  _ Altean  _ technology — did, and I want to know why that is.”

Hunk sighs, but puts his helmet on. “Fine. But let’s be careful, okay? If there’s something out there that’s using technology similar to Voltron’s, we shouldn’t be taking them on with a single Lion.”

They remain in solemn silence while Allura takes the Lion to the ship, gingerly landing on the unprotected hull.

Keith is the first one out of the Lion, followed closely by Tral, with Allura and Hunk taking the tail. If the situation was any less dire, Keith might be confused and surprised by how easily the others follow his lead, but as it is he simply leads them into the ship through the wide gash on the hull.

The inside of the ship is dark, with only the emergency lights flickering on and off. The chill of the air feels wrong in the Galran environment.

“The life support systems must be off,” Tral says quietly.

“Can you turn them back on?” Keith asks, trying hard not to think back to the last time he was on a Galra ship. He can’t get caught up in that memory — of Voltron tearing the ship apart, of losing Zarkon — Keith bites his tongue until he tastes blood and turns his attention to the others.

Tral tilts his head, considering his answer. “Depends on how much damage was done to the systems. We should head to the bridge; the computers there have their own network and backups to keep them running in case of situations like this. It’ll be easier for me to assess the situation from there.”

Keith inclines his head, then motions for Allura and Hunk to follow them. They head towards the bridge, the ship deafeningly silent around them. Keith has the bayard in his hand, and Hunk is waving a light down the corridors before they enter them. Keith swallows when his eyes catch the sight of the singed walls, like a firefight had taken place there.

They stop to stare at the two sentries scattered around one of the hallways, torn to pieces in a way Keith has never seen one be torn into, shocked by the sight and unsure of how it happened.

“Let’s keep going,” Allura says and steps around the broken pieces. The others following her example.

They don’t find the first Galra — torn apart and blood splattered across the walls — until they are one level down from the bridge. Keith swallows, sharing a concerned glance with Tral before walking past the carnage.

Soon they reach the bridge and Allura helps Tral pry the doors open. Keith helps them the best he can while Hunk stand by ready with his bayard cannon.

The doors open and Hunk steps into the bridge first, with Keith at his heels, his sword ready.

The bridge is destroyed, blood splattered all across the floor and the walls and the darkened computers. Blown up sentries lie scattered across the floor, and there’s a hole in the wall with exposed wires hanging from it.

Keith’s ears draw back, his eyes drawn to the sight of the three Galra that have bled out at their stations.

Tral is the first to move, heading for the nearest computer station. Allura and Hunk linger by the doors while Keith wanders around the room, checking the bodies out of an odd sense of obligation to do so. He doesn’t recognize any of them, and he ignores the relief filling him because of it.

Keith circles the computer stations, intending to check if the one’s near the front of the bridge might work, but he stills when his eyes land on the young Galra officer leaning against the back of the computer station, breathing shallowly. The trail of fresh blood on the floor tells Keith he’d just dragged himself there, most likely to hide from Keith and his company.

The officer’s attention drifts to Keith, and they both stare at each other for a long second.

Keith waves his hand. “Hi.”

The Galra blinks slowly. Keith’s not sure if he’s fully processing Keith’s presence, and he swallows, his tail flicking anxiously. Allura and Hunk come to Keith’s side, curious and cautious, while Tral leans over the computer terminal to see who Keith has greeted, shocked to see the officer.

Keith takes his helmet off as he takes a step closer to the officer, shivering at the chill air hitting his face. He kneels by the officer, ignoring the blood pooled around him, and smiles. “We’re not gonna hurt you.” Keith studies the officer, taking in the blood splattered on his face and the wound on his side — like someone shot him — and his ears draw back. “What happened?”

The Galra swallows, then coughs, and Tral joins his side and helps him sit up better. “They shot through our shields like they weren’t even there. We didn’t even have time to tell them to identify themselves.”

“Who?” Tral asks.

“I don’t know,” the officer replies, “they just came on board and killed everyone and they did something to the ship and now the power won’t come back on. The last thing we registered before everything shut down was a rapid quintessence loss.”

Keith shares a glance with Hunk, the scout ship drained of quintessence coming to his mind.

Tral stands and heads back to the computers, with Hunk following him to offer him help if it’s needed. Allura studies the Galra with a thoughtful frown on her face for a moment longer before joining Tral and Hunk.

Keith remains by the Galra’s side. “Could you tell me your name?”

“Gailek.”

Keith smiles at him. “I’m — “

“Keith, I know. You were with the Emperor.” Gailek tries to smile, but he doesn’t quite manage it. He glances down at the wound on his side, his ears tilting down. “I don’t want to die.” Gailek’s voice is so quiet Keith barely hears him.

Keith touches Gailek’s shoulder, tilting his head until he can meet Gailek’s gaze. “You won’t.”

Gailek stares at Keith with too wide eyes. “What is he like? The Emperor?”

“I’ll tell you all about him later, okay? Let’s get out of here first,” Keith replies, then his brow furrows. “Where’s the medical bay?”

“Third level.”

Keith inclines his head and turns to the others. “I’m going to go look around.”

Allura nods. “I’m coming with you. We shouldn’t go anywhere alone.”

Keith doesn’t argue with her. He stands, offering Gailek one last reassuring smile before walking up to Hunk and Tral working on the computer. “Keep him company, okay? Make sure he stays alive.” Keith directs his words more to Hunk than to Tral, and though Hunk throws a doubtful glance at Gailek, he nods, his expression becoming determined before he goes to Gailek’s side, keeping just a little bit too much distance between them to not give out his discomfort at the situation.

Keith heads out of the bridge with Allura following close by, and they walk through the too quiet hallways, their steps echoing in the darkness. Keith keeps expecting something to attack them, or for a ghost or a monster of some kind to show up. He almost tells Allura as much, but he doesn’t want to put the idea into her head in case she hasn’t thought about it already.

“Do you think there’s still quintessence on board?” Allura asks, her voice quiet.

Keith hopes so, for Gailek’s sake. “Not if the people who did this are the same ones who drained the scout ship.”

“I wonder who they are,” Allura says. “Perhaps they could be allies; they seem to be able to handle the Galra rather well.”

Keith grits his teeth. “I’d rather not associate with people who did this.”

Allura doesn’t reply, but the air around them shifts and Keith’s ears flatten. They find more destroyed sentries as they head deeper into the ship, as well as two dead Galra and a broken druid mask in a pool of drying blood, but no druid in sight.

Keith and Allura share an uneasy look, but they press on. Soon they locate the medical bay, and as Keith had feared the room is destroyed. The bottles of quintessence that should be in the cabinets by the back wall are either empty or broken on the ground, and there’s no quintessence in sight.

“We should return to the others,” Allura says, her eyes darting around the room. “Something is wrong here.”

Keith inclines his head almost absently. “In a minute” — he takes a step forward — “I don’t think we’re alone.”

Allura tenses, her eyes scanning the room more closely as she takes her bayard in her hand. Keith follows her example and takes his own bayard out as well, the uneasy feeling growing heavier as he walks slowly across the room towards the door at the far end of the room, past the quintessence cabinets. Allura stays by his side, but as they near the doors Keith lets her take the lead. She tries to pry the door open, waving Keith away when he offers to help.

“Watch my back,” she whispers.

Keith nods and turns his attention to the dark room behind them. To get a better feel of his surroundings, Keith circles the room — keeping Allura in his sights at all times — the uneasiness in him growing, the hairs at the back of his neck standing up and his tail twitching from side to side, his ears trying to pick up even the faintest of sounds.

Keith stops in the middle of the room, certain there is someone behind him, but when he turns around there’s no one there. The feeling doesn’t go away. It grows stronger until Keith might snap under it.

A hand grips Keith’s shoulder and he yelps as he swirls around, his bayard ready to strike. Allura’s there by Keith’s side in an instant, pulling him away from the druid that seems to have appeared out of thin air.

The druid — covered in blood and their mask cracked — wobbles and reaches forward again. “Keith.”

Keith stills, his blood running cold. He tears himself free from Allura’s hold just in time to stop the druid from falling to the floor. “Kiira?”

“Be careful!” Allura tugs at Keith’s arm, but he shakes her off.

“I know her!” Keith eases Kiira to the floor and tries to see if she’s hurt. “Are you okay?”

Kiira shakes her head, her grip on Keith’s shoulders trembling. “They could reflect our attacks. One of us had to hide… the research” — she coughs, the sound of it too wet — “we had to protect the research.”

Keith bites his lip, not wanting to ask what the research is in front of Allura. “There’s an officer on the bridge who’s hurt really bad. I think someone shot him. Is there anything here that might help him?”

Kiira looks around. “Check the cabinets on the left side of the room. There should be gauze and medication to stop bleeding in there, but there’s nothing to fix the wound.”

“And you? Do you need anything?” Keith asks.

Kiira shakes her head. “They reflected our magic and bounced it back at us, there’s nothing here to fix what that did.”

Keith glances at Allura, unsure if what he’s about to do is the smartest thing. “Watch her while I check the cabinets.”

Allura doesn’t look happy about it, but she does what Keith says and stays by Kiira’s side, though she makes a point of not touching her. Keith frowns but ignores it for now, deciding that the medicine is more important in that moment.

Keith rummages through the cabinets and drawers, finding the gauze easily enough, but the bottles with the different liquids in them cause him to pause. He doesn’t understand the labels on them, so he ends up scooping all the bottles into his arms and carrying them to Kiira. “Which one?”

Kiira looks at the bottles, her head swaying slightly from side to side. “That.” She points at the bottle with the bright pink liquid in it, and Keith grabs it.

“Let’s get back to the others,” he says to Allura as he helps Kiira up. “We should get out of here.”

Allura nods and leads the way back to the bridge. They move slower than before since Kiira can’t move that fast with her injuries. After a minute Kiira forces Keith to slow down until Allura is a few steps ahead of them, and she slips something small and metallic into his hand. Keith pockets it immediately, not even sparing it a glance.

Allura notices they have fallen behind seconds later and slows down to let them catch up.

“You disappeared,” Kiira says, her voice strangely casual in their situation.

“I got kidnapped by friends. I’m alright, though,” Keith replies.

Allura glances at them over her shoulder, her expression unreadable.

“How’s Zarkon?” Keith asks.

Kiira leans more heavily on Keith. “The High Priestess is caring for him.”

Keith inclines his head and focuses on supporting Kiira as they make their way to the bridge.

To Keith’s relief Gailek is still alive, engaged in stilted conversation with Hunk. Tral has given up on the computers and he’s sitting on the floor with Gailek and Hunk, watching them and offering his input to their conversation every now and again. He scrambles to his feet when he spots Kiira, drawing his sword out but not attacking.

“Let’s patch you up,” Keith says to Gailek, offering him a brief smile and showing him the gauze and medicine.

“Why is that with you?” Tral asks, nodding his head towards Kiira.

“Because she’s my friend and I don’t leave my friends on ships with no working life support,” Keith snaps.

Kiira ignores them in favor of slumping by Gailek’s side. Keith sits down as well and hands the gauze and medicine to Kiira. He glares at the others, daring them to say something while Kiira fixes Gailek up to the best of her abilities.

“He can come to the Base — we’ll treat him there — but that’s staying here,” Tral says, pointing at Kiira.

“Then I’m staying too,” Keith shoots back.

“No one is staying anywhere,” Hunk cuts in, “right? At least no one of our group?”

Allura frowns, studying Keith with a grim expression. “I don’t —“

Keith scoffs. “You keep saying you’re better than the Galra — that you help people no matter who they are.”

Allura flinches, as does Hunk.

Keith frowns at them. “If you’re not going to help because they’re not on your side or you don’t like them because of what race they are or their ideologies or whatever, you can leave us here. I’d rather be with them than you — at least the Empire doesn’t pretend to be something it’s not.”

Hunk pulls Allura away while Tral leans on the computer station and crosses his arms.

Keith flattens his ears and turns his attention to Kiira and Gailek. He offers them a forced smile and takes Gailek’s hand to reassure him that he’s not going anywhere. Gailek grips Keith’s hand tightly, almost painfully, but Keith doesn’t complain.

A moment later Allura and Hunk join them again.

“They can come,” Allura says, clearly not liking the idea one bit. “We’ll fix them up, but they have to go to hold cells once they are healed. They are still members of the Empire.”

“That is acceptable,” Kiira says.

Tral grumbles, but he helps Hunk pick Gailek up from the ground. Keith helps Kiira up, and Allura leads the way back to the Blue Lion. She has to pilot the Lion into the hangar so that Kiira and Gailek can enter it safely, but eventually they are all off the ship and in the Lion.

Allura refuses to let Gailek and Kiira into the cockpit, so Keith ends up spending the journey back to the Castleship with them in the cargo bay of the Lion, with Tral keeping guard over them.

“Tell me about your baby,” Keith says, nudging Kiira who is leaning on his shoulder.

“I sent him to my mate. It was safer that way,” Kiira replies.

Gailek — resting his head on Keith’s other shoulder, lifts his head slightly. “You have a baby?”

“Yes,” Kiira says.

“Huh.” Gailek lets his head flop down on Keith’s shoulder again.

They arrive at the Castleship not long after, and Tral drags Gailek out as soon as the Lion has safely landed. Keith waits until Hunk and Allura are out of the Lion as well before helping Kiira out, not surprised at all to find the others clamoring over Gailek.

The silence that falls when everyone sees Kiira is deafening. Keith grits his teeth and sets his shoulders, and helps Kiira towards the medical bay, ignoring the murmurs following them.

“I’m gonna fix you, and then we’ll figure out how to get back to Zarkon, okay?” Keith says, careful to keep his voice quiet.

“Alright,” Kiira replies just as quietly.

Keith isn’t surprised that the others follow him soon, having gotten over their shock of having not only a Galra officer on board the ship, but a druid as well. They pack themselves into the medical bay and — after making sure Gailek has no weapons he could use against them or anything to contact the Empire with — they help Gailek out of his damaged armor and into one of the healing pods.

Then everyone’s attention zeroes in on Kiira.

Keith puts himself between her and everyone else without thinking about what he’s doing. “She needs help.”

“She?” Pidge raises a skeptical eyebrow, studying Kiira closely.

Keith grits his teeth,  his ears drawing back. “Could you just go away?”

“Why?” Lance asks, crossing his arms. “You got something to hide?”

Kiira grips Keith’s arm , and Keith spares her a glance.

“I’m just being respectful to other people’s customs,” Keith replies, his ears flattening further.

“Maybe” — Shiro cuts in before anyone else can say anything, his voice just a little too loud — “we ought to leave the arguing and curiosity to a time when we don’t have people possibly dying on our hands?”

Keith spares Shiro a grateful look. “Since we’re in agreement, could you lot get out so that I can make sure my friend will be fine?”

Shiro takes the hint to usher everyone else out of the medical bay, ignoring the protestations he receives. Soon only Keith, Kiira, and — to Keith’s surprise and annoyance — Coran are left.

Coran takes a step closer to Keith. “You’ll need someone to operate the healing pods and to make sure you don’t accidentally do something that might damage your friend instead of healing her.”

Keith turns to Kiira. “He’s got a point.”

Kiira shifts. “I don’t even know him.”  Her voice barely above a whisper, as if she doesn’t want Coran to hear her.

Keith glances at Coran, biting his lip. “I know him. Coran’s been one of the only people who hasn’t made me feel like murdering someone since I got dragged back here. He’s going to promise to respect your traditions in order to keep you from dying from... what? Bounced magic?”

“But — “

“Kiira! You could be dying so it’s time to ignore your traditions and think about your mate and your kid and staying alive, okay?” Keith levels Kiira with a stern stare, then waves at Coran. “Coran is going to swear he’ll respect your privacy and customs and that he’ll never tell anyone what you look like, okay?”

“I am,” Coran agrees.

Keith touches Kiira’s arm. “Please.”

Kiira looks at Keith, her cracked mask giving nothing away. Keith swallows, fearing he’s going to lose a friend because of some stupid druid tradition.

“For my child?” Kiira looks down, inclining her head slowly. “Yes, I could do that.”

Keith lets out a breath, a relieved smile spreading on his face. “Then let’s get you fixed up.”

Keith guides Kiira to the healing pod Coran has prepared while Keith convinced Kiira she needs to be healed.

Kiira stops, swaying slightly on her feet as she takes her robes off and hands them to Coran, revealing the glowing lightning scar traveling along her back.

“I’ll have these mended while you’re healing,” Coran says as he folds Kiira’s robes in his arms.

Kiira raises her shoulders and reaches for her mask, hesitating.

Keith touches her arm, offering her an encouraging smile. “You can do this.”

Kiira’s shoulders draw up higher. “It is extremely rare for someone outside of my kind or the people accepted by us to see a druid unmasked. We don’t allow anyone but closest friends and family to see us.”

Keith shares a look with Coran. “I understand that, but is that really worth dying for?”

“Some of us have died to follow the vow we all took when we were ordained into the druid order,” Kiira replies.

“Well, you’re not going to,” Keith says.

“Keith and I will keep your secret,” Coran adds.

Kiira lets out a slow breath and takes a hold of her mask. Keith tries not to be excited to see what Kiira looks like under the mask, he’ll have time for that later; right now he needs to focus on what Kiira needs.

Keith takes a step towards Coran as Kiira takes her mask off, revealing short, light blue, nearly white hair and pointy ears. That’s not what Keith is focused on, though, he’s too busy trying not to let his shock of seeing Kiira’s face show on his own.

Coran swallows. “You’re... Altean.”

Kiira glances up, her eyes the same yellow as Haggar’s, with red lines running down her cheeks, almost reaching her jaw, as well as down her forehead and the bridge of her nose, growing thinner and stopping between her eyes. “There have been no Alteans in ten thousand years.”

Coran frowns. “But you’re —“

“I am  _ not  _ one of you,” Kiira states, her voice surprisingly sharp. “We are our own people separate from everyone else, as we have been for thousands of years, as were our ancestors who followed the true king.”

Coran’s expression turns grim, but Keith ignores him in favor of helping Kiira into the healing pod. “Can you adjust it to her?” He asks Coran, who takes a second too long to move to not show his discomfort with Kiira.

Kiira settles into the pod while Coran adjusts the settings, his expression turning more sour as he works.

“I didn’t know she’s got Altean blood,” Keith says as soon as Kiira is secured in the pod and unable to hear them.

“We share an ancestry, that’s all,” Coran replies, his voice too void of emotion.

Keith frowns. “What do you mean? She’s clearly got Altean blood, that means there has to be Altean still alive.”

“No. I think she’s descended from a group of renegade Alteans — a rather dark chapter in our history. It happened before Alfor’s time. Allura and I didn’t think any of them had survived, they were scattered across the universe and struggling to survive by the time Voltron was built, and the war was not easy on them, I’d imagine; they were too few in numbers to survive much longer.”

“But isn’t that a good thing that they’ve survived? I mean, they might not be the Alteans you remember, but even if she’d be a direct descendant of Alteans from your planet, they would be vastly different from what they were back then by now, right? It’s been ten thousand years after all, and Altea was destroyed and they’ve been hunted for centuries, right?” Keith takes a step closer to Coran. “Does it matter if they’re not the exact same kind of Alteans you remember?”

Coran turns to observe Kiira. “It is not that simple.”

Keith doesn’t understand the problem, but he suspects there’s a story there that he’s missing.

Coran takes in a sharp breath and picks up the robes he’d placed aside while he’d set the healing pod for Kiira. “I should go mend these.” He heads to the door, picking Kiira’s mask up from the floor by the pod where Kiira had left it as he goes.

Keith turns to him. “Don’t tell the others about her.”

Coran stops, his shoulders tense. He doesn’t turn to face Keith. “I promised I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

Keith doesn’t know if Coran will keep his word, but he lets him go, hoping that Coran will prove himself to be as trustworthy as Keith believes him to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know it's been like... four chapters but I finally got around doing [the Keith and Allura piece](http://saremina.tumblr.com/post/179091480943/someone-please-teach-keith-how-to-properly-tie) I said I'd do, adding to the Shelter art I've done this inktober. We'll see if I'll do more or if I'm gonna move on to other topics for a while.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo... I've been writing bits and pieces from here and there of this fic and I ended up making a list of all the things that I know will happen and I ended up grouping them together (not outlining, but more like writing down vague notes) and it added up to 39 chapters so now I have a chapter count for this fic and I'm not sure why I expected this to be any shorter than that because holy hell is there a lot going on but at least I discovered that I know the entire plot of this fic already which is awesome because I wasn't sure if that was the case.
> 
> Also I'm hoping to bring the chapter count down so it's probably gonna change at some point, but not drastically.

The storm ends up lasting longer than anyone anticipated, and even after five days there has been no word from Matt or anyone at the Rebel base. Shiro doesn’t worry about it too much — sometimes storms are unpredictable — but he does hope for news on the Rebel agents soon.

Keith and Allura’s trip to the Galra ship with Hunk and Tral had provided everyone with enough excitement to distract them all in the form of Gailek — who Tral had taken back to the Blade of Marmora to be interrogated — and Kiira who they had put in the Castleship’s holding cell despite Keith’s protests.

“She’s my friend, she’s not going to hurt anyone,” Keith had insisted.

“She’s also a druid,” Shiro had pointed out. “No one here is comfortable having one of those walking around.”

Keith isn’t happy about it, but with Kiira in the holding cell and the situation calming down, Shiro’s attention drifts from the druid to Matt. He’s growing worried with the lack of news, and when he brings Matt’s silence up with Pidge she shares similar concerns with him.

“It was a big storm. Something could’ve happened to them,” Pidge says, worry creeping into her voice and her face.

“We could go check on him if you’d like,” Shiro offers.

Pidge straightens up and nods. “Yeah, let’s do that.”

Shiro tells Allura of their concerns, and she agrees with them. “I’ll contact the Rebellion to make sure they haven’t heard anything from Matt either, but if Pidge wants to go check it out herself she should get ready to move out.”

Shiro thanks her, and after telling Pidge to prepare for the trip he goes to find Keith to let him know he’ll be going away for a day or two. It doesn’t surprise Shiro to find Keith by the holding cell, sitting on the chair Keith had carried there almost as soon as they had locked Kiira in.

What does surprise Shiro is the sound of Keith’s easy laughter and the way his ears are perked up, and the relaxed sway of his tail. There’s a genuine smile on Keith’s face, and he’s waving his hand as he talks, more animated than Shiro has seen him in years.

The sight makes Shiro’s chest constrict, and he swallows and glances away. He pushes the urge to rub his neck or walk away down, and forces himself to shake off the uneasiness. He clears his throat and takes a step forward.

The change in Keith is instant: his ears tilt back, his tail slows down, and his smile fades away as he yanks his walls back up.

Shiro hates it, but he makes himself walk forward like nothing is wrong. “Pidge and I are going to go check on Matt. We still haven’t heard from him and we’re getting worried.”

“Okay,” Keith says, his voice far more neutral than it was just moments ago.

Shiro shifts. “Do you want to come?”

“No.”

Shiro grits his teeth, doing his best not to let Keith’s attitude get to him. “We’ll probably be gone for a few days.”

Keith stares at Shiro with an expression uncomfortably void of any real emotion. He’s been doing that ever since Kiira was placed in the cell. Shiro’s shoulders tense and he nods minutely, his eyes drifting to the druid sitting on the floor of her cell, leaning against the glass by Keith’s side.

Keith frowns. “Did you need something else?”

Shiro starts to shake his head but stops. “Do you know how to fix this?” Shiro lifts his Galran arm, directing his words to Kiira.

Kiira turns her attention from Keith to Shiro, the eyes of her expressionless mask seeming to bore into Shiro’s soul. Shiro bites his tongue and stands still under the piercing gaze, and fights back the memories of what the druids had done to him when he’d been… what they had…

Shiro bites his tongue harder to force the memories away; they are in the past, and they have no place in this moment.

“I did not specialize in prosthetic engineering,” Kiira says eventually, her tone flat.

Keith’s ears perk up again. “What did you specialize in?”

Kiira turns her face from Shiro to Keith. “Medical studies and biological engineering.”

Keith’s lips quirk up into a smile. “Like engineering a baby?”

Shiro’s face twists in confusion. “What?”

Kiira’s attention returns to Shiro, and she tilts her head slightly. “My mate and I cannot have a child on our own, so I made one for us.”

The way Kiira says it — like it’s a perfectly natural thing to say — only serves to make Shiro feel uneasy as well as confused. “You made a child?”

“Yes.” Kiira inclines her head. “It was necessary to do so in order for us to have a child that is biologically ours. It is an important scientific advancement as well.”

Shiro glances at Keith and shrugs a shoulder, not knowing what else to do. “If you say so.”

Keith purses his lips, his ears twitching down. “The Galra have devised a way for people who couldn’t otherwise have biological children to have them and you think that’s bad?”

“No,” Shiro hurries to say, “I just... it’s great, but I’m just not sure how I feel about genetic engineering — or whatever it is. But it is great. It’s… people who want to have their own children should be able to have them.”

Keith turns his attention to his claws — Shiro still can’t believe he has claws and not nails — while Kiira keeps staring at Shiro. Or at least Shiro thinks she does, he can’t be sure with the mask.

Shiro takes a step back. “Well, I should get going. Pidge is waiting for me.”

“Then go,” Keith mutters, then turns to Shiro and smiles for just a second. “Good luck.”

Shiro nods. “Thanks. I’ll see you when we get back.”

Keith waves at Shiro, already focused on Kiira again. Shiro tries not to let it get to him. Keith has missed his Galran friends and Kiira is obviously one of them, and that doesn’t bother Shiro as much as it used to. What bothers Shiro is that Keith is so at ease around Kiira — a druid. Why would Keith be so easy around a druid? It had taken Shiro more than a year to get Keith to be that at ease around him, and a druid had done so in less time.

A small voice in the back of Shiro’s mind tells him that Keith has had time to learn to trust people and make friends since they had met and that’s why the Galra had an easier time to get to know him, but it still stings.

Before he joins Pidge on the bridge, Shiro shakes his discomfort off. There’s no point in letting anyone else see it, or allow it to affect their mission in any way.

Pidge is deep in conversation with Allura, observing charts and maps of the desolate moon the Rebel base is on.

“Are you ready to go?” Shiro asks.

“In a moment. Olia sent us maps and I want to familiarize myself with them before we go,” Pidge replies.

Shiro nods. “That’s a good idea.” He joins Pidge and Allura, studying the maps as he crosses his arms. “What do we know of the situation at the base?”

Allura launches into a detailed recount of what Olia had told her about the situation, and Shiro focuses on her words.

 

* * *

 

“I thought he was your friend,” Kiira says, tilting her head until it clanks against the glass wall of her cell.

Keith sighs. “He is, but he’s... I miss Zarkon and the others.”

“I do not follow.”

“He said he loves me,” Keith blurts out, running his hands through his hair, accidentally undoing his loose ponytail. He groans and catches the ribbon before it falls to the ground and gathers his hair up again. “I wanted to hear him say that for years and now that he has I just” — Keith sighs — “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. Most of the time I just pretend he never said anything, because I don’t know how... and he put you in a jar so there’s that as well.”

Kiira studies Keith in silence for a long moment. “If you want his love and you have it, I don’t see why there is a problem.”

“Zarkon,” Keith says, sparing Kiira a glance. “I don’t want to leave him or... cheat on him or something just on the slim chance that Shiro and I could have something good.”

“Why would you need to leave the Emperor just to have a relationship with another person?”

Keith frowns at Kiira. “What do you mean?”

“The Galra are polyamorous,” Kiira reminds Keith, “it is not uncommon for people to have multiple partners.”

Keith laughs. “Yeah, because Zarkon would be _so_ happy if I started anything with the person piloting his Lion. Besides, Shiro’s a human, and humans aren’t polyamorous, he’d never be okay with me still being with Zarkon. And to top it all of, Shiro and Zarkon are leaders on the opposite sides of a war.”

“That might be a problem.”

“You think?” Keith smiles a little despite himself.

“The Emperor is not here, though,” Kiira says, “so there is nothing stopping you from exploring the possibility of a relationship with your Shiro,” Kiira says.

Keith frowns. “Are you... encouraging me to cheat on Zarkon?”

Kiira shakes her head. “No, I am encouraging you to explore your options and trust that if they love you, they will accept your decision, whether it is to have them both, one or the other, or neither. Happiness is to be sought out.”

Keith sighs, slumping in his seat. “But what if they won’t accept it? What if me trying something with Shiro or staying with Zarkon is gonna be a problem to one of them?”

“Then that person does not deserve your attention,” Kiira replies, sounding sure of herself.

Keith bites his lip, his tail twitching. “I don’t know if I have it in me to find out what would happen if I tried that. What if they won’t be okay with it? I don’t know what I’d do if I found out that one of them would not be okay with what I want. I don’t think I could handle that.”

“You can,” Kiira assures him, “you are stronger than you think. Do you really want to live with the doubt in your mind that one of them might not have accepted your decision, or that you made the wrong one because you were afraid, or that perhaps you could have had everything you wanted if you just tried? Even if you decide that you only want a relationship with one of them in the future, at least you would know what they can both offer you.”

Keith stares at Kiira, his eyes wide. “That… why you give such great relationship advice?”

Kiira shrugs. “My mate is a Galra I met while in the service of the Empire, I have had to think about these things a lot.”

Keith’s pose relaxes. “How did you two meet?”

Keith can’t see it, but the way Kiira turns her head down makes him think she’s smiling. “The computer in my room broke and she came to fix it. I broke the computer at a later date to meet her again.”

Keith laughs and Kiira tilts her head. “I thought she was pretty and I wanted to see her again.”

“I’m not judging you,” Keith tells her, “but how did you know you could trust her with the whole — “ Keith motions at Kiira’s mask.

“I didn’t know,” Kiira replies. “I weighed the options for weeks. If she was not someone trustworthy she could have brought harm not only to me but to the other druids as well, but on the other hand, I could be happy with her. I informed the High Priestess of my desire to let her in on our secret — it is standard practice to do so to protect ourselves — and I pushed my fears aside and trusted her.”

Keith nods slowly, his ears still drawn back. “I’m not sure I could do that.”

Kiira shrugs one shoulder. “It is your choice.”

“I suppose.” Keith slumps in his seat. He’d prefer it if Kiira told him what to do; making the decision on his own is too hard. There are too many variables and possible outcomes, and Keith doesn’t even know what he wants in the end. “I’ll think about it,” he says.

Kiira inclines her head, her attention lingering on Keith for a moment longer before she looks over his shoulder and sits up straighter. Keith glances over his shoulder at Allura hovering by the doors.

“Why is everyone showing up here today?” Keith mutters to himself and crosses his arms.

Allura sets her shoulders and marches towards the cell. She stops near Keith, her expression uncomfortable but determined as she studies Kiira. “I was thinking; you are a druid, so you know about the magic you use, right?”

Keith sits up, his ears perking as he turns to Kiira as well.

“I was hoping you would tell me about it,” Allura adds.

“Why would I do that?” Kiira asks.

“Because she can use the magic too and she struck Zarkon with it, so you’d benefit from knowing how her magic works,” Keith cuts in, sparing Allura a brief glance. “I assume Haggar would’ve gotten Zarkon up to his feet by now if she could heal whatever she did to him. Maybe her magic is more unstable than yours? Or she uses it differently?”

Kiira cocks her head, her attention drifting from Keith to Allura and then back to Keith. “I cannot simply tell you how our magic works, that is not how it is taught.”

“Then how do you guys learn about it?” Keith asks.

“At the temple, the priests guide us. Learning the magic is as much about the feel of it as knowing the technicalities and theory of it.” Kiira tilts her head and turns her gaze from Keith to Allura. “I cannot help you. You know nothing but destruction through others.”

Allura frowns and crosses her arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You utilize other’s magic to create your own, and you destroy with it. That is not the essence of our ways.”

“Could you teach her your way? Not just tell her how the magic works but actually teach her?” Keith asks.

“Why would I do that?” Kiira counters. “She is not one of us, and teaching her will not benefit me or the Empire in anyway.”

“It would benefit Zarkon,” Keith argues.

“Keith — “

“No!” Keith turns to glare Allura. “I don’t care what you think, _especially_ if it can help Zarkon in some way.”

“Even if that were the case, I have no way of contacting the Empire and telling them anything of her magic,” Kiira says.

Keith turns from Allura to Kiira. “But...”

This is what Haggar wanted, for Keith to find a way to learn about Allura’s magic. He was supposed to help Zarkon and he can’t even do that. Keith’s ears droop.

He just wants to help Zarkon.

“I might be able to assist her in gaining better control over her abilities,” Kiira says after a while, her voice carrying a defeated note, “but only if you let me out of this cell for the time it will take me to teach her.”

Keith swirls to face Allura, his eyes imploring, and Allura purses her lips. “I suppose that would be helpful.”

Keith sighs in relief.

“I’ll have to make sure the others are alright with a druid wandering around the ship first, but I’m sure we can come to an agreement that will be satisfactory to everyone,” Allura continues.

Some of Keith’s relief drains away. Allura nods, as if to assure herself that she’s done the right thing, then she turns on her heels and heads to the door.

“I’ll go get you lunch,” Keith says hastily before bolting after Allura, intending on helping her convince the others that letting Kiira out of her cell is a good idea.

 

* * *

 

The moon is barren and the winds whipping its surface in the minimal atmosphere, sending dust everywhere force Shiro and Pidge to rely on the Lion’s navigational systems rather than their own eyes as they fly to the rebel base and land next to Olia’s ship.

The winds nearly blow Pidge away, and Shiro grips her hand to keep her by his side.

The doors to the base are closed but unlocked, but prying them open still take effort. Shiro and Pidge hurry inside as soon as they can to get away from the harsh conditions of the moon, hastily closing the doors behind them. They take a second to breathe before the silence of the base registers in their minds, and they take a look around.

The lights in the corridors have been destroyed, but besides the charred lightning like scars on the damp walls and floors, Shiro and Pidge find nothing else wrong and no sign of anyone being there; not until they stumble on the trail of blood, like someone had been dragged across the floor, leading towards the command center.

Shiro takes a hold of Pidge’s shoulder and calls Olia. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Olia replies, her voice wavering slightly, “I’m in the cargo bay.”

“We’re coming there,” Shiro says, pulling Pidge back and towards the cargo bay. Pidge is tense and upset, but holding herself together with strength Shiro admires. He’d tell Pidge everything will be alright if he didn’t know it was a lie, and Pidge doesn’t deserve that, no matter how much Shiro wants to ease her mind.

They find Olia in the cargo bay, sitting on the ground by Matt’s side who is slumped on a box. Pidge tears herself free from Shiro’s hold and runs to Matt, ignoring the blood covering him as she throws her arms around him and pulls him into a crushing hug.

Shiro walks up to Olia, relieved to see Matt is alright and wanting to give Matt and Pidge a moment. “What happened?”

Olia shrugs. “I don’t know. Matt says a Galra got in but... I don’t know how _this_ happened. Everyone else is dead.”

“She wasn’t wearing typical armor,” Matt pipes in, “and she had this staff she used to electrify everything. She broke a water pipe and just... she electrified everything. THe entire floor was... the walls...”

Shiro frowns, his eyes meeting Pidge’s. “We met a Galra like that once. Kolivan said she was some kind of a Special Forces agent or something and that we were lucky to be alive.”

“How did you survive?” Pidge asks, turning her attention to Matt.

“We barricaded ourselves in the command center but she got in and killed everyone else. She looked me straight in the eye and smacked me over the head with her staff. I was pretty out of it after that, but“ — Matt swallows, his eyes meeting Olia’s — “I think she downloaded everything from our computers before leaving. I haven’t been able to contact anyone to tell them; I haven’t been able to get the comms to work.”

Blood rushes from Shiro’s face. “We need to warn everyone and figure out what she took, exactly.”

“I’ve already sent word to the Rebellion, but I need to get back to them as soon as possible. We’ll be sending a team here to do clean up and figure out what the Galra stole,” Olia says.

“We’ll take Matt,” Pidge states, getting no arguments from anyone.

With no time to waste, they all rush out of the base and into their ships. Shiro and Pidge head straight to the Castleship while Olia hurries back to the Rebellion.

Matt isn’t seriously injured so there’s no need for them to put him in a healing pod, but they do treat the cuts and bruises he’s sustained, as well as make sure he’s properly hydrated and fed. Allura, Hunk, Lance and Coran are there, asking questions with concern marring their faces, but Keith is nowhere to be seen.

“Allura wants to let the druid out of the cell,” Hunk informs Shiro.

Matt frowns, his shoulders tense. “What druid?”

Shiro crosses his arms and turns to Matt. “Keith, Allura, and Hunk went to steal some kind of special quintessence and came back with a druid instead. Apparently Keith knows her so he refused to leave her. She’s in the cell so it should be safe.”

Matt stares at Shiro. “Druids can use magic and teleport, and you think a cell is going to hold one?”

Shiro shares a concerned glance with the others.

“It’s an Altean cell,” Hunk says, but his voice betrays his uncertainty.

“There is a force field in effect as well as the Lyxian glass,” Coran says, his voice thoughtful. “I don’t think even a druid could break through that.”

Matt doesn’t look convinced. “If you say so.”

“What happened in the base?” Allura asks.

A shadow passes over Matt’s face. “We’d just finished settling in for the storm when we found one of ours dead and the water pipes damaged. Everything was wet and since it looked like... like he’d been electrified... we thought he’d had an accident. We didn’t think someone was there until... it was just one Galra.”

Pidge puts her hand on Matt’s arm.

Matt takes a deep breath. “When we realized we’d been infiltrated we tried calling the Rebellion to let them know about it, but we couldn’t get the comms working. We thought it was because of the storm at the time. We tried fighting — there was ten of us against one — but she took us all out. By the time we barricaded ourselves in the command center there was four of us left, and the Galra just came in and killed everyone else. She hit me over the head and... I don’t know why I’m alive.”

“We’re all glad you are,” Allura says.

“If it was the same Galra that we once fought,” Shiro starts, then stops, rethinking his words. “She didn’t kill us either, and Kolivan said we were lucky.”

“Maybe because we’re human as well? Except for Allura, of course.” Lance offers Allura a brief smile that she returns. “I mean, if it’s the same Galra, she’s got a track record of not killing humans.”

Shiro frowns, then turns on his heels and marches out of the room, the others calling after him. Shiro ignores them in favor of marching to the holding cell where Keith is still keeping company to the druid.

“The Galra guarding the facility we attacked and you told us to leave — did you know her?” Shiro levels Keith with a look that tells him to tell the truth. “Because Matt just spent three days alone in a base with everyone else dead because that same Galra killed everyone else there.”

Keith flinches, his ears pressing flat against his head as he turns his gaze down.

“I have no knowledge of the Galra that attacked you, but the one guarding the creature in our possession was a high ranking member of our special forces until recently,” Kiira says, to Shiro’s surprise.

Shiro turns to her, trying to fix a more polite look on his face. “Who is she?”

“Why would I tell you that?”

“Because she stole something from us and I want to know who I’m gonna be going after,” Shiro replies.

“Don’t,” Keith says, his voice so quiet Shiro almost misses it.

“Keith,” Kiira warns.

Keith shakes his head and stands up, facing Shiro with a grim look in his eyes and his jaw set in determination. “She’s my friend, and I will never forgive you if you hurt her.”

Shiro frowns and takes a step towards Keith. “She killed nine people and compromised the entire Rebellion.”

“And I never had to tell her to not hurt you, she did that on her own. She’s still doing it if she left Matt alive, and she doesn’t have to. She’s probably gonna be in trouble with her superiors for it,” Keith says.

Shiro grits his teeth. “The Rebellion — “

“She’s just doing her job!” Keith snaps. “You go around killing the Galra because you think it’s right even though it’s not your job and somehow that’s okay, but her doing what she’s getting paid to do isn’t? Because she’s not doing it for you?”

Shiro bites his tongue, not knowing how to respond to that.

Keith glances away. “She thinks you’re cute.”

Shiro blinks, opening and closing his mouth a few times. “Um, okay?”

Keith nods, the movement stiff and small, and — to Shiro’s horror — sniffles. Shiro rushes to him, pulling Keith into his arms. “Hey, it’s okay.”

Keith throws his arms around Shiro, clinging to him tightly. “She’s never been anything but nice to me. She’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.”

“I won’t hurt her if it means so much to you,” Shiro replies, “but she did steal critical information on the Rebellion and I need the data chip she used back.”

“If she stole information she has already uploaded it all to the Empire’s servers, so getting anything back is a futile task,” Kiira says. “It is standard practice.”

Shiro sighs, rubbing soothing circles on Keith’s back. “Of course it is.”

Keith’s claws dig into Shiro’s back. “Leave her alone, okay? She’s just doing her job.”

If the Galra really have a standard practice of uploading all stolen information immediately, Shiro doesn’t know if there’s any point in getting the data chip back besides doing so on principle. It even makes sense to Shiro that the Galra would upload everything; he’d do it himself as well, just in case someone tried to steal the information back. Still...

“We need to know what she stole.” Shiro pulls away from Keith, just far enough to look Keith in the eye. “Unless the Rebellion can figure out what was stolen from the computers, the only way to find that out is by getting the data chip back.”

“Can you wait? Until the Rebellion goes through the computers, I mean?” Keith asks.

Shiro smiles and nods. “Sure.” He nods towards the cell. “I heard Allura wants to let her out.”

Keith takes a step back and rubs his cheeks, looking away from Shiro. “Kiira could help Allura with her magic.”

“That’d be nice,” Shiro says, hoping his uncertainty at the idea doesn’t show in his voice.

“Will you help us convince the others?” Keith asks, glancing at Kiira. “Allura wants everyone to be okay with Kiira being out.”

Shiro studies Kiira, considering all the things that might happen if they let a druid run free in the ship. His eyes drift to Keith and his hopeful face, the tears still clinging to his lashes and the wetness of his eyes making them seem too bright, almost glowing. It’s not entirely unnatural for Keith — he’d always been able to pull off that expression — but now, having been turned into a Galra, the effect seems amplified. Maybe it’s because Keith’s irises are so much bigger and the purple of them so much more vivid.

Or maybe Shiro is just hopelessly in love like Matt always likes to say.

“I’ll talk to them,” Shiro promises, then turns to Kiira, leveling her with a hard look. “But only if you promise to not cause trouble.”

Kiira inclines her head. “I can do that.”

Shiro nods. “I’m going to trust you because Keith considers you a friend, but that’s it. Don’t screw him over.”

Shiro’s expression softens when he turns back to Keith. “I’m going to go make sure Matt’s alright. He’s pretty shaken up by what happened.”

“I’ll come say hi to him later,” Keith promises.

Shiro smiles and nods before heading out of the door, trying to figure out how to convince the others to let Kiira out of her cell. He stops as he reaches the doors, and turns back to Keith. “You wouldn’t happen to know where Sam is? Matt’s been worried about him.”

Keith frowns, shaking his head slowly. “No, sorry. All Zarkon said was that Matt escaped and that they moved Sam to another place, and he once mentioned that Sam’s earned some work privileges, but that’s all I know. I have no idea where he is.”

Shiro tries to smile, but he doesn’t quite succeed. “At least he’s alive, right?”

Keith’s ears twitch, but when he says nothing Shiro nods and walks out of the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next month is gonna be slow on updates (I'll be doing [this](http://saremina.tumblr.com/post/179493210968/writing-commissions-open), real life, and a special kind of NaNoWriMo project that won't take up much of my time), but I'll try to get at least a chapter or two up at some point.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is actually two chapters in one (first of the two times it's happened thus far btw), so this is sort of a double update?
> 
> You're getting this now because I'm doing great in the writing department and I had time to edit.

Getting everyone to agree to let Kiira help Allura learn more about her magic is a grueling process, but eventually everyone agrees it’s Allura’s best option, and Kiira may come out of her cell to teach her — under certain conditions.

Tral and Rejya join the Paladins to watch over Kiira, and Kiira is handcuffed when she travels around the ship. Keith refuses to leave her side when she’s out of her cell, glaring at anyone who dares to even look at Kiira the wrong way.

Shiro doesn’t know if letting Kiira out of the cell is a good idea, and the first time Keith and Allura take her to the training deck keeps him on edge. He keeps expecting something to happen — for Kiira to attack them or try to escape — but the day passes without any incidents. Keith even spends a few minutes talking quietly with Tral and Rejya after they lock Kiira up again.

Not that any of it truly eases Shiro’s mind. The fact that Kolivan has stated he will be visiting Kiira soon doesn’t help his mood either.

 

* * *

 

Keith isn’t sure if Kiira is stalling on purpose or if she’s just a bad teacher, but everything she’s telling Allura to do seems more complicated than necessary. When Allura fails to generate enough energy to form even the smallest wisp of magic, Kiira gives up on that front and generates the energy herself, creating a shimmering ball of static magic in Allura’s cupped palms, much like Haggar had done with Keith. Unlike what Keith had experienced, Allura manages to hold the shape of the ball for a solid fifteen seconds before it explodes in her hands, injuring her. Kiira teleports out of the reach before the unleashed energy can hit her, and Keith hits the floor mostly on instinct.

Kiira then declares Allura can’t be taught without proper quintessence for her to use, since she can’t use the magic Kiira produces for her to practice with without maiming everyone in her vicinity.

It’s after one of such failed training session, while Rejya and Tral help Allura to the medical bay to treat her singed hands, trusting Keith with getting Kiira back to her cell, that Keith asks the question he’s been wanting to ask since he first saw Kiira, but hadn’t dared for fear of being monitored — besides asking Kiira about the data chip she’d given him, that is.

“The High Priestess is with the Emperor,” Kiira replies patiently.

Keith sighs. “I know that, but” — he glances around — “we’d established communication and I’d been talking with her. I was supposed to leave... something on the ship we found you on, but the whole situation was so strange that I forgot about it and I haven’t been able to contact her to tell her about it.”

Kiira slows down. “There was a risk at remaining in the Palace, and the High Priestess chose to take the Emperor to a safer place. It is possible she is avoiding contact to protect him and herself.”

Keith stills, his blood running cold. “What danger?” He can’t imagine there being anything that could be a danger to Zarkon in his own home.

Kiira resumes her previous pace, forcing Keith to hurry after her. “The people are restless and with Lotor on the throne their trust in our leadership has weakened. Some are even questioning our Emperor’s ability to lead — they say he’s grown soft with age.”

Keith’s brows shoot up.

Kiira shrugs. “It is troubling, but nothing we cannot handle. But combined with everything else…”

“Everything else?”

Kiira’s shoulders tense. “There are questions about the wisdom of allowing Lotor on the throne.”

Keith waits a beat, then asks; “and?”

Kiira’s gaze stays firmly fixed on the corridor before them. “There are those who find your relationship with the Emperor questionable, not only because they are not convinced you are truly a Galra and not just masked as one in an attempt to make your relationship seem more acceptable, but because of your association with the Paladins. They fear your effect on the Emperor — the water he gave that one planet and his disinterest in joining the people in the Arena or in hunting Voltron. The High Priestess feared this would happen, and now, with the Emperor incapacitated, a disliked half-breed on the throne and you gone with the Paladins, the tensions in the Empire grew too high. The High Priestess was not comfortable remaining where she was.”

Keith frowns, his eyes cast down, lost in thought all the way back to the cell. He barely remembers to apologize to Kiira for having to lock her up again.

“It is of no consequence,” she assures him, but Keith’s not listening to her anymore. His mind is on what she’d told him as they walked through the hallways. He hadn’t realized how bad the situation truly was.

As desperation grows inside Keith, he searches the phantom feel of the bond that sometimes brushes against his mind, gone before he truly realizes it’s there, before he remembers the bond was torn from him, taunting him with what he’d lost. Keith is sure it’s not an accurate comparison, but in a way it’s like a limb he’d lost that still itches from time to time.It’s never there when Keith looks for it, and it fills him with bitterness.

 

* * *

 

Kolivan arrives on the Castleship,  accompanied by Tral and Rejya.

“I’m here for the druid,” Kolivan states, his voice leaving no room for arguments.

Shiro frowns, crossing his arms. “Are you going to take her with you?”

“That will depend on whether or not she cooperates today,” Kolivan replies.

Shiro’s frown deepens. He’s not fond of the idea of letting Kolivan take a friend of Keith’s away, and he’s not sure the druid will cooperate in a manner that will persuade Kolivan to let her stay. Getting Keith to not cause a scene if Kolivan does decide to take Kiira away will most likely to be impossible.

Shiro glances at Kolivan, doubtful he knows what he’s going to face if he tries to take Kiira.

Unsurprisingly, Keith is already with Kiira, talking with her in hushed tones. Keith stills when Shiro leads Kolivan into the room, his ears turning back at the sound of the approaching steps.

Even Kiira straightens up.

“Kolivan wants to have a word with Kiira,” Shiro says before Kolivan can do more than open his mouth. “I’m sure we can all have a civil conversation, right?”

“I have nothing to say to him,” Kiira says, her voice eerily emotionless.

Kolivan takes a step forward. “We can do this at our base if it suits you better.” There’s an edge in Kolivan’s voice, but that’s not what makes Shiro flinch; Keith’s expression has darkened dangerously, his tail swaying slowly from side to side.

Shiro hurries to put himself between Kolivan and the cell, and Keith by extension. “She’s our prisoner, so you’re not just going to take her without a good reason.” He turns to Kiira. “Could you just talk to him?”

“No.”

Shiro glances at Keith, silently pleading him to talk some sense into his friend before Kolivan takes her away.

Keith grits his teeth and crosses his arms, but he spares Kiira a look. “Why won’t you talk to him?”

“He is a member of an enemy faction,” Kiira replies.

It makes sense: Shiro wouldn’t talk to the Galra either, but he also understands Kolivan’s desire to get the information only Kiira can provide.

“And you are a prisoner who is not in a position to argue,” Kolivan states.

Keith steps forward, his ears flat and his mouth set in a hard line. “I’m not a prisoner and I am in a position to argue, and if you want to take her anywhere you’re gonna have to go through me first.”

Shiro puts himself between Keith and Kolivan, raising his hands to pacify both of them. “No one is going to fight anyone.”

Keith’s gaze remained fixed on Kolivan, hard and full of fire, daring Kolivan to challenge him. Shiro narrows his eyes in warning.

When he’s sure the situation won’t blow in on their faces, Shiro turns to Kiira. “It’d be in everyone’s best interest if you’d answer a few questions.”

Shiro imagines Kiira frowns, that she’s glaring at him behind the expressionless mask, mostly because that’s what he’d be doing.

“He may ask any questions he wishes, but I make no promises of answering them,” Kiira replies, and her voice doesn’t carry a frown or a glare, it’s the same eerily emotionless tone she always seems to use with everyone but Keith.

Shiro nods and turns to Kolivan. “Good enough?”

Kolivan ears tilt back, just a fraction. “We have the means to extract information from her. I see no point in wasting time on this.”

Keith tenses, baring his teeth. A chill runs down Shiro’s spine, and he takes a step back to stand by Keith’s side rather than in front of him. “She’s our prisoner, and you’re not taking her anywhere. You can talk to her here, but that’s it.”

Kolivan frowns, his eyes going from Shiro to Keith and then back to Shiro again. Rejya and Tral exchange an uncomfortable glance behind him. “That will work. For now.”

Shiro nods, then touches Keith’s arm to gently guide him to stand a little to the side. Keith goes, though his eyes remain fixed on Kolivan.

Kolivan steps up to the cell, studying Kiira with a critical eye. “You have been moving large shipments of quintessence lately. Why?”

Kiira stands up, meeting Kolivan’s gaze. “We move the quintessence we require.”

Kolivan crosses his arms, his eyes narrowing. “What do you need the quintessence for?”

Kiira tilts her head. “The Empire uses quintessence in everything from powering our cities to maintaining our ships and army, that is not a secret.”

“Not in the kind of quantities you have been shipping.”

“It would seem your knowledge of the Empire is not as accurate as you would like to believe.”

Kiira and Kolivan study each other, Kiira’s mask hiding her expression, the corners of Kolivan’s mouth tightening.

“You have found a new kind of quintessence, correct? What are you doing with it?” Kolivan asks.

Kiira remains silent for so long Shiro expects she won’t answer. “Information regarding the study of quintessence is classified and I have had no access to it.”

“You’re lying,” Kolivan says.

“My focus is in medicine and biology, not the study of quintessence.”

Kolivan narrows his eyes. Shiro glances at Keith, noting the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“You expect me to believe a druid doesn’t know about quintessence?” Kolivan asks, his words clipped.

“I know about quintessence,” Kiira replies matter of factly. “Just not the kind you are inquiring about.”

Shiro swallows down a laugh, and glances at Keith again. The proud glimmer of Keith’s eyes doesn’t surprise him, and Shiro can’t fault Keith for it.

Kolivan is far less impressed with Kiira’s attitude, and a brief glance at Rejya and Tral tells Shiro they’re unsure if they should be impressed or worried.

Kolivan turns to frown at Shiro. “This is pointless. We would have much more success if we took her back to our base and interrogated her there.”

“You’re not taking her to be tortured,” Shiro states before Keith can snap at Kolivan.

“Who said anything about torture?” Kolivan asks, tilting his head.

Shiro crosses his arms and frowns. “She stays here. If you don’t like the answers she’s giving you that’s not our problem.”

Kolivan narrows his eyes, studying Shiro and Keith for a long moment, contemplating arguing his position further.

“How about you make a list of things you want to know and we talk about it with Kiira instead of you?” Keith suggests, surprising everyone, even Kiira.

Kolivan glances at Kiira, clearly not fond of the idea.

“She’s never gonna talk to you,” Keith adds.

“I think it’s a great idea,” Shiro agrees, earning himself a brief, barely there look of gratitude from Keith.

Outvoted, Kolivan lets out a slow breath. “I will expect answers.”

“And you’ll get them,” Shiro promises, already regretting doing so.

“And I want to see Gailek,” Keith says, “just to make sure he’s okay.” The pointed look he shoots at Kolivan is more telling than his tone.

“That can be arranged,” Kolivan says. “But not right away. We have more important matters to deal with at the moment.”

Keith inclines his head, but the movement is stiff. Kolivan turns and walks away from Kiira, his steps betraying his displeasure. Rejya and Tral spare Keith an unreadable look before following Kolivan out.

Shiro lets out a shaky breath, his shoulders slumping.

“Thanks,” Keith says, smiling minutely, “for not letting them take her.”

Shiro spares Kiira a brief look. “I know what Galra interrogation is like,” he says, his voice dark. “And she’s your friend,” he hurries to add.

The hint of a smile playing on Keith’s lips disappears. He studies Shiro with an unreadable expression, chewing his lip as if lost in thought. Shiro looks away, his eyes landing on Kiira. “You’re welcome.”

Kiira inclines her head. “The sentiment is appreciated.”

Shiro resists the urge to roll his eyes and heads to the doors, not feeling like staying there under Keith’s scrutiny anymore.

He’s not surprised when Keith doesn’t follow him.

 

* * *

 

Keith hovers behind Shiro’s door. It’s past midnight, so there’s no reason for Shiro to be awake anymore. Keith should just go to his own room. He still knocks gently, just to say he did it so that he can justify walking away.

Of course Shiro opens the door, exhausted but clearly not having slept at all yet.

“I don’t want to bother you,” Keith starts.

“You’re not bothering me,” Shiro assures him, waving him in.

Keith steps across the threshold, clutching the hem of his black wrap shirt, resisting the need to loosen the collar. Shiro slumps on the bed with a heavy sigh. “What is it?”

Keith shuffles on his feet, inching closer to Shiro. “I like you,” he blurts, grimacing at his words. Shiro lifts an eyebrow, curious if confused.

Keith sighs and wanders around the room. “With Zarkon... I get that none of you believe we have a good relationship but we do. Maybe not the healthiest ever, but every relationship has its problems, right?”

Keith looks to Shiro for confirmation. Shiro offers him a slow, hesitant nod.

Keith bites his lip, his brow furrowing. “Did you know the Galra are polyamorous? They pick a mate but they’re not monogamous until that, and maybe not even after that.”

Shiro shifts, crossing his hands between his knees. “Did you...” He clears his throat. “With Zarkon, I mean?”

Keith shakes his head. “No.”

Shiro tilts his head slowly. “Do you mind if I ask where you’re going with this?”

Keith paces the room for a moment longer before coming to a stuttering halt. “Kiira and I talked and she pointed out that the Galra don’t practice monogamy, so... I just... you told me you — “

“Stop.”

Keith’s jaw snaps shut. He doesn’t meet Shiro’s eyes.

“I don’t want you to force yourself into a relationship with me just because... I don’t even know why.” Shiro pushes himself off the bed. “I can’t believe you thought this was a good idea.”

Keith sets his shoulders and faces Shiro. “I like you. I’m not offering to jump into your bed or start anything. I just like you, I’ve always liked you. I kept thinking I’d ask you out once came back from the Kerberos mission. I was gonna chicken out but I did think about it. I even kept waiting for you to save me from the Galra at first, before I got to know them.” Keith shrugs and toes the floor. “You’re the only one who’s never abandoned me — you and Zarkon.”

Shiro takes a step closer to Keith, and Keith meets his eyes. “I’m not saying we should start a relationship right now, but I just wanted you to know that I’m not opposed to the idea.” Keith shifts, his ears tilting back. “I know it’s the Galran way and you might not agree with it, but I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you, and that’s why I wanted to talk to you.”

Shiro nods, gritting his teeth. It encourages Keith to stand a little taller. “I’m not leaving Zarkon for you. If that’s a problem for you then let me know, and we can just be friends like we’ve always been, but I’d hope you’d at least consider if that’s something you’re okay with. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable or anything. I wouldn’t leave you for Zarkon either, because I shouldn’t have to choose between two people who are important to me. But I don’t want you to be uncomfortable either, so think about it, okay? Think about what you’re okay with.”

Shiro nods again. “I’ll do that.”

Keith smiles at him, relieved. “Thanks.”

Shiro returns Keith’s smile. “You like me?”

Keith laughs, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, I like you.”

Shiro grins, the stress and exhaustion leaving his face. Keith’s throat seizes up and he takes a step towards Shiro, and Shiro does the same. Soon they’re face to face, smiling at each other.

Keith looks away, his cheeks heating up. “I should... let you get back to sleep.”

“I wasn’t sleeping,” Shiro says. “But I could use some rest.”

Keith nods. He glances up, pressing his forehead briefly against Shiro’s, not lingering for long enough for Shiro to even think about leaning into the touch.

“Good night,” Keith says before leaving Shiro’s side and heading for the door. The nervousness that had plagued him earlier has vanished, and Keith smiles as he heads towards his room, feeling lighter than he has in days.

 

* * *

 

Shiro lies awake in his bed, trying to process the conversation he had with Keith the night before. He hadn’t thought about it much after Keith had left, he’d been too exhausted to do so. But now, after a night of rest, he can’t stop staring at the ceiling and thinking about it.

The idea of a romantic relationship with Keith — a relationship with hand holding and kissing and other things that Shiro doesn’t let himself think about — is something he’s entertained, sure, but never seriously. He’d thought of taking Keith out on a date, of them waking up in a lazy morning and making breakfast. He never thought of it as a serious possibility, not even when he’d entertained the idea of asking Keith out after the Kerberos mission.

An idea they had apparently shared.

But the possibility of a relationship is shadowed by Keith wanting Zarkon to be a part of it.

With a heavy sigh, Shiro pushes himself up and goes about his morning routine.

He chats with Hunk during breakfast, then checks the latest updates on the war with Coran before wandering around the ship. Keith is most likely still asleep — or just finished getting ready for bed — so Shiro doesn’t bother him even though he’d love nothing more than to continue their conversation from the night before.

Instead of going to Keith, Shiro finds himself standing at the door of the too empty room that houses Kiira’s cell. Coran has already brought Kiira breakfast — or whatever it is to her, as her sleeping habits remain a mystery to all but Keith.

Shiro hesitates, but he takes a step closer to the cell, clearing his throat to let Kiira know he’s there. She’s sitting on the floor of her cell, her back turned to Shiro, and she doesn’t acknowledge his presence in any way.

Shiro makes his way to the cell, his steps halting when he sees the mask lying forgotten at Kiira’s side. She’s still got her hood on, pulled far over her ´head to keep anyone from even accidentally glimpsing her face. Kiira has the plate Coran had brought her in front of her, and she’s absently picking at the fruit on it, occasionally putting a piece into her mouth.

Shiro stares at her, fascinated by the sight.

It’s not that Shiro’s surprised Kiira takes her mask off to eat — though Shiro hadn’t really considered it until now — it’s that Shiro’s _so close_ to her, to seeing her face, and the chance to catch even a glimpse of a druid’s face is intriguing.

“Did you want something?” Kiira asks.

Shiro starts and looks away, only then realizing he has no reason to be there. “Keith and I had an interesting chat last night — about Galran relationships,” he ends up saying, though he regrets it the second the words leave his mouth.

Kiira picks another piece of fruit from the plate. “You cannot make him into something he is not.”

Shiro frowns. “What do you mean?”

“The Galra emotions run deep. You cannot force him to leave the Emperor in order to have you. If that is something you wish to do, you do not deserve him — as I have told him.”

The idea that Keith and Kiira have been talking about him is more disturbing than Shiro expected it to be, but he shrugs the feeling off. “I don’t want to force Keith to do anything — “

“You forced him away from the Emperor,” Kiira points out.

Shiro grits his teeth. “That’s different. We were rescuing Keith — you people brainwashed him.”

Kiira picks up her mask and puts it on before turning to Shiro. “I have not seen any report or mention of anyone brainwashing Keith.”

“Doesn’t mean it didn’t happen,” Shiro points out.

Kiira remains still for a moment, then tilts her head slightly. “I doubt it. To my knowledge the Emperor enjoys Keith’s personality as it is, and if we had brainwashed him he would have already murdered all of you and brought Voltron and this vessel to the Empire.”

Shiro hates that her words make sense. “Still, you did _something_ to him.”

“I did not meet Keith until months into his stay with us, and I have no knowledge of anything being ‘done’ to Keith,” Kiira replies.

Not wanting to argue, Shiro takes a deep breath and thinks of another subject. “Could you explain the Galran relationship... thing to me? I get polyamory but not how it works with you.”

Kiira shrugs. “It depends on the people involved in the relationship. Some live together and some do not; some engage in one serious relationship while having casual sex or romances when they feel like it. Some choose to stick to a single partner. It is all up to negotiation, as the key to a Galran relationship is everyone’s happiness and open communication.”

Shiro nods slowly. “Okay.”

“The Emperor will not allow you to keep Keith,” Kiira says. “I suspect he could be persuaded to allow Keith to see you from time to time and keep in contact over the comms, but the Emperor is possessive, and he has a fondness for Keith. You should not expect for Keith to stay with you.”

A dark cloud shadows Shiro’s thoughts, the muscles in his jaw clenching.

“I do not see you living with us either,” Kiira adds, seemingly unaware of the change in Shiro’s mood.

“Thanks. That clears a few things,” Shiro says and heads to the door, not wanting to hear anything else Kiira might have to say.

Maybe he should have tried to interrogate Kiira on the things Kolivan had mentioned in the long list he’d left with the Paladins. Maybe Shiro should have told Kiira in no uncertain terms that Keith will stay where he is and Zarkon will just have to suck it up. There are a dozen things Shiro could have said and done, but none seem important in that moment.

Shiro smiles at Lance when he runs into him in an elevator, but his thoughts are drifting.

“Could you help me train later today?” Lance asks. “Allura’s busy with Keith and the druid so I don’t want to bother her,” he adds, his voice taking a dark edge that pierces through the haze of Shiro’s mind.

“Sure,” Shiro replies, then turns to study Lance with a hard expression. “Be nice to them, okay? The Galra did a real number on Keith and we’re better off not angering the druid.”

Lance’s shoulders slump. “I know, I’m sorry. It’s just that... what if Keith brought the druid here to work against us? They’re spending an awful lot of time together.”

“They’re friends. Keith knows her from his time with the Galra, so of course he’s going to want to spend time with her. He still wants to go back to the Galra,” Shiro says, unable to keep his frustration at the situation from creeping into his voice.

Lance’s expression turns sympathetic. “It’ll be okay. He grew up with humans, he’s gonna want to come back to us sooner or later. Nothing beats home, after all.”

Shiro hums, not quite agreeing with Lance but not wanting him to know it either. He doesn’t point out that Keith never felt at home among humans. He doesn’t say that Keith insists the only place he’s ever been able to truly be himself in was with the Galra.

Shiro leaves Lance in the elevator without another word and heads to the bridge, needing something to take his mind off the past few days. He’s surprised to find Coran and Allura with worried looks on their faces.

“Did something happen?” Shiro asks.

Coran nods and Allura sets her shoulders, her expression worried and grim. “We just received a message from Olia. A Rebellion ship was just found, all power drained and the entire crew gone, with no visible signs of damage done to the ship. We were thinking about sending Pidge and Hunk to investigate the ship, since they have knowledge of that kind of thing.”

Shiro nods, crossing his arms. “That’s a good idea. We should let them know about it as soon as possible.”

“I’ll go tell them right away,” Coran says, hurrying past Shiro and out of the doors.

Shiro and Allura share a worried look. They had assumed that whoever was attacking ships and leaving them abandoned in space was only going after Galra, but the look on Allura’s face tells Shiro she’s thinking the same thing he is; whoever (or whatever) is attacking the Galra is also going to be a problem for Voltron and the Rebellion.

 

* * *

 

With Pidge and Hunk gone, the Castleship feels strangely empty, and Shiro is glad for the chance to take Keith to see the Galra officer they had captured, even though he’s a little uncomfortable leaving Coran, Allura and Lance alone in the Castleship. They’ll be in trouble if anyone comes for them, but Shiro doesn’t expect the trip to the Blade base to take more than a few hours.

Unsurprisingly, Keith and Kolivan are lukewarm towards each other at best when they greet each other when Keith and Shiro arrive in the base.

A Galra Shiro doesn’t know by name takes them to the cells as soon as Kolivan, Keith and Shiro are done with the pleasantries. The cells are deep in the base, far away from any public areas — like the cell Shiro had been in when he had been away from the Arena to be studied by Haggar — and Shiro’s chest constricts. He starts when Keith takes his hand, but it eases his mind and Shiro squeezes Keith’s fingers, grateful for the comfort Keith offers him.

The Blade operatives have moved Gailek form his cell to a small room with no furniture, and Gailek is handcuffed and leaning against the far wall, under the guard of two Blade agents. The way he holds his right shoulder — like he’s trying to hide its pain despite his hands being cuffed in front of him — and the slight metallic tang in the air make Shiro’s skin prickle.

“You can go now,” Keith tells the guards with authority that makes Shiro’s eyes widen. Keith glares at the Blade agents until they follow his order, the two of them throwing warning glares at Gailek over their shoulders.

Once they’re alone, Keith offers Gailek a friendly smile. “You okay?”

Gailek shrugs one shoulder — the one that’s not hurt — and lowers his ears in what to Shiro looks like respect. “I’ve been better, but it’s nothing I can’t deal with.”

Keith frowns. “Are you being treated well?”

“We have an ongoing disagreement on whether or not I should tell these traitors about Empire business. I keep telling them that I just got my post and I have no knowledge of anything that might be even remotely useful, but they don’t believe me,” Gailek replies.

“Have they hurt you?” Shiro cuts in, his voice harsher than he intended.

Gailek seems taken aback, his ears twitching minutely back and forth. “As I said, it’s nothing I can’t handle. I am an officer of the Empire, after all.”

Keith snorts, directing his mirthless gaze to Shiro. “The Galra are stubborn and prideful, in case you can’t tell.”

“If they’re not treating you well...” Shiro frowns at the floor before glancing at Keith. “We could place you with the Rebellion?”

Keith shakes his head. “They’re not gonna be any better. In fact, they’ll probably be worse.”

Shiro grits his teeth. “I suppose we could talk to the others about housing him in the Castleship.”

Keith nods, turning his eyes to Gailek. “You’ll be fine, I promise.”

Instead of replying, Gailek closes the distance between him and Keith. Even though Shiro wants to step between the two, he remains by Keith’s side. Gailek bows his head slightly at Keith, his ears lowered, and offers Keith his bound hands. Keith takes them his expression solemn.

Shiro doesn’t know what’s passing between the two, but interrupting the moment seems rude. Something about it keeps Shiro from taking a step forward — there’s something alien about it.

The moment passes, and Gailek steps back, letting go of Keith’s hands. Shiro sucks in his lower lip to keep himself from saying anything.

Keith says something Shiro doesn’t understand, and it takes him a second to realize he’s speaking Galran and that there’s nothing wrong with Shiro’s ears. Gailek’s eyes widen minutely before he smiles, bowing his head.

Keith turns to Shiro. “We can go now.”

Shiro nods. Keith says his goodbyes to Gailek, assuring him once again that they’ll figure out a way to get him away from the Blade. Shiro waves his hand at Gailek before following Keith out of the room. He is not nearly as optimistic about their chances of getting Gailek relocated than Keith is, but he keeps that to himself.

There’s no point in upsetting Keith by pointing out the obvious.

Keith marches up to Kolivan, interrupting the meeting he’s holding with five Blade operatives without blinking. “I want to talk to you.”

“You can wait,” Kolivan tells Keith, his mouth set in a hard line as he turns back to his agents.

Keith’s ears flatten. “No, I can’t. You can talk to them later.”

The Blade operatives and Shiro all freeze, equally shocked while Kolivan turns his attention back to Keith.

“I beg your pardon?”

Keith stands taller. “I need to talk to you, and it’s important. They can wait a keesek.”

Shiro has no idea what a keesek is, and he doesn’t care; the incredulous look Kolivan is giving Keith demands all of his attention.

One of the Blade agents barks a laugh. “Did you talk to the Emperor like that?”

Keith — without missing a beat — turns to her. “Yes.”

Shiro crosses his arms to keep himself from fidgeting. Kolivan studies Keith, his expression unreadable.

“What do you want?” Kolivan asks. Shiro keeps it to himself, but he suspects it’s the smart thing to do.

“I want Gailek moved to the Castleship. You’re not treating him well,” Keith replies, his voice leaving no room for argument.

“No, he stays here.” Kolivan turns his attention back to the Blade operatives.

Keith opens his mouth, ready to argue, but Shiro takes his arm. “Let’s go.” He turns to Kolivan. “Thank you for your hospitality.”

Keith glares at Shiro, his tail flicking angrily from side to side as Shiro drags him away.

“It’s just for now. Let’s figure out where we’ll put Gailek before we do anything else,” Shiro whispers harshly, trying not to draw the attention of the Galra around them.

Keith follows him without struggling after that, though the set of his ears remains stubbornly drawn back, and a frown mars his face. Shiro grips Keith’s arm a little tighter and heads to the Black Lion.

 

* * *

 

The first half of their journey back to the Castleship passes in silence.

Keith slumps against the wall of the cockpit behind Shiro’s back; his mood wasn’t good going into the Blade base, and it’s only gotten worse as the day has progressed.

Shiro clears his throat, making Keith grimace. “I don’t know if this is the best time” — it’s not, but Keith keeps that to himself — “but I’ve been thinking about what you told me about Galran relationships.”

Keith sighs and hangs his head. “Kiira said you talked to her about it.”

“I just wanted her opinion too, she’s a Galra, after all.” Shiro glances at Keith over his shoulder. “I assumed I could talk to her.”

“You can.” Keith pushes himself off the wall and drags himself to Shiro, slumping on the ground at his feet. “I just didn’t think you’d go to her for relationship advice.”

Shiro chuckles. “Yeah, that’s not really something I was planning on doing. But she did help me, in a way.”

Keith tilts his head, encouraging Shiro to continue.

Shiro bites his lip. “She said Zarkon would never let you stay with me.”

“Maybe I’d want to stay with the Galra,” Keith replies. “Doesn’t mean we couldn’t be together.”

Shiro throws Keith a look, not having missed the way he avoided saying Zarkon’s name. Keith ignores it. “It’s just a matter of figuring out an arrangement where everyone is happy.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.” Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I’d like to say I’m open enough for a polyamorous relationship without hesitation but... I don’t know. Maybe if it wasn’t Zarkon but — “

“If it’s a problem then forget the whole thing,” Keith cuts in.

Shiro shakes his head. “I’m not saying I couldn’t be comfortable in the relationship, but I think it’d be something we’d need to talk about — how it would work and if there’s some things expected of each party and such.”

Keith’s ears move slowly as he ponders over Shiro’s words. “I think it’s a matter of us all sitting down and talking about it like adults. You’d have to leave your prejudices about Zarkon out of it, though.”

The muscle in Shiro’s jaw flexes, his expression doubtful. “But how would that work? We’re on different sides of a war.”

Keith tilts his head. “I’d hope we could all live together eventually. Zarkon’s got a palace that I assume is huge, so it’d be easy for the two of you to avoid each other if you’d want to.”

“You want me to move in to Zarkon’s home?” Shiro gives Keith and incredulous look.

Keith shrugs, lowering his eyes to the ground. “It’s not a stupid idea.”

“I’m not saying it is,” Shiro says hurriedly, “I’m just not sure Zarkon would ever let me live in his... palace, and I’m not sure I’d want to live among the Galra.”

“Then don’t,” Keith snaps. “If you can’t see it working even without trying, then just say so and we’ll forget about it.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Shiro says. “I’m just saying that it wouldn’t be as easy as you’d like it to be.”

Keith scowls, his tail tapping against the floor in annoyance. “I don’t expect it to be easy. I just look at it from a more positive angle.”

Shiro glances at Keith, his expression turning thoughtful. “You’re right,” he says eventually. “I’m assuming it wouldn’t work.”

Keith bites his lip and frowns at the floor.

“It might. I don’t know how but... if we’d work the details out, it might, right?”

“Right,” Keith sighs. He doesn’t dare to hope Shiro would come around and actually agree to try a relationship where Zarkon would be involved, even if he’d been the one to suggest it in the first place.

Keith isn’t even sure he truly wants to be with Shiro anymore. Sure, he has feelings for Shiro — he’s had them for a long time — and he’s always imagined what a relationship with him would be like, but it all seems too complicated now. Keith wishes Shiro didn’t hate Zarkon so much; things would be easier if there was less hostility between the two of them.

“Maybe we should sit down and talk about this properly at some point?” Shiro asks, glancing at Keith. “After we’ve had more time to think about what we want?”

Keith shrugs. “Sure.”

They lapse into another silence that lasts until they reach the Castleship, and — after trying to reach the bond one last time — Keith bolts out of the Black Lion and hurries to check on Kiira before heading to the training deck to work out his frustrations on the Gladiator.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm trying to finish this fic for NaNoWriMo so if you wanna come follow that I'm occasionally posting about it (and other writing/fandom stuff) on [twitter](https://twitter.com/Saremina__).
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Broke 25k faster than I expected so you get this now. This is a filler titled 'Meanwhile on the other side of the galaxy'.

Everything is still. The air inside the ship, the space outside the hull, the atmosphere of the Empire itself. It’s all too still.

It makes Thace tense; tenser than he was when Kolivan ordered him undercover years ago. The entire universe seems to be waiting for something. Thace swallows, willing the uneasy feeling away, and focuses his attention to the familiar hum of the space coming through his headphones. Usually the work eases his mind, but tonight Thace keeps expecting to hear... something.

Perhaps a distant scream or a whisper.

_Messages from the dead._

Thace shakes his head and scoffs at the thought. Ancient horror stories of the first space voyagers. No messages from the other side have ever been reported, but space madness is a well documented phenomena, one that Thace is not willing to succumb to just yet. He takes the headphones off and stands from his desk, and heads out of the room, hoping that a walk will clear his head.

Lotor had given him the chance to pick his own crew — small as it may be — and picking Haala and Marzila had been easy, as both will gladly protect Keith and the Empire, and both are efficient in their chosen fields. The rest of the staff is composed of people Thace has worked with; people he trusts to be loyal to the Empire and Zarkon. He would have liked to have another Blade operative on the ship, but after his argument with Kolivan, he doesn’t feel comfortable with having another Blade watching his every movement.

Still, another Blade operative would have offered company that doesn’t require Thace to pretend to be something he’s not, as well as a sense of security Thace lacks among the Empire’s soldiers. Yes, he has Haala there, but Haala knows only the side Thace allows him to see. He doesn’t know of the Blade of Marmora or Thace’s true opinions about the Empire, and Thace isn’t sure Haala would keep a secret like that. Not that Thace would ever put Haala in danger by telling him; Haala is family, and despite Marda... Haala is better off not getting involved with the Blade.

Thace moves through the ship, unseen by the staff he passes. It’s late and no one has the energy to engage in conversation, and Thace cannot fault them for it.

Their mission — finding those who oppose the Emperor and protecting Keith in the process — has proven to be a rather uneventful and borderline boring at times. There is not much for them to do other than to keep an ear on the chatter in the comms and the shadows of the Empire, and though the few communications officers Thace brought with him enjoy their work, the others are not used to sitting around with nothing to do.

Unsurprisingly, Thace finds both Haala and Marzila in the recreation room, arguing with three other officers about what Thace assumes is the latest round of Riosh — a game involving five dice, cards, and usually a copious amount of gambling. He clears his throat, the room falling silent in the presence of the ship’s commanding officer.

“We’re not gambling,” one of the officers, Bax, blurts out.

Haala snorts. “He’s just saying that because he’s losing. I’m cleaning them all out.”

If Thace wasn’t the commanding officer, he would compliment, perhaps even encourage Haala to do just that, but as the commanding officer, he is forced to remind Haala that technically gambling is not allowed on board the Empire’s ships.

Haala’s expression, when he turns to Thace, is impressively unimpressed. “And when have you cared about that?”

“Since I became your commanding officer.”

“You were my commanding officer two months ago when I cleaned you out, too,” Haala points out.

Thace suppresses a smile.

“We’re a small crew on a secret mission,” Marzila points out, her voice carrying a hesitant note. “We’re just passing time. We’re not even officially here.”

Thace inclines his head. “I see your point.” He says it more because he doesn’t care about his crew gambling in their own time than to make his nephew’s potential future mate comfortable around him.

The games keep the crew from getting bored, and there is nothing wrong with that, Thace reasons. A bored crew is a crew that gets sloppy and slow, and they might have to be ready to move in a moment’s notice.

“Just don’t let anyone find out about this, and my official stand on gambling on board the ship is that it is not allowed,” Thace says.

“Whatever,” Haala mutters, then asks more loudly; “Want us to deal you in?”

This time, Thace doesn’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. “Maybe some other time.”

A few keeseks later Thace returns to his quarters. He brews himself a cup of tea before sitting down by his desk and putting his headphones back on, letting the hum of space fill his ears —

_Messages from the dead_

— and pointedly ignores the uneasiness trying to claw at his mind.

 

* * *

 

Marzila groans as she undoes her braid, her scalp tingling at the sensation of having her hair flow freely for the first time in nearly five quarters. “You should show him some respect.”

“We’re not exactly on a usual mission here,” Haala replies and sits on the bed with a relieved sigh. “Thace can handle it.”

“I was thinking about how it looks to the others.” Marzila turns to Haala, frowning at him. “Your attitude is going to get you in trouble again.”

Haala groans and falls back on the bed. “Thace isn’t going to write me up for not kissing his ass.”

Marzila groans. “You’re impossible.” She strips off her armor and joins Haala on the bed. “Why do I stay with you?”

“Because I made you laugh when you thought you’d never do that again,” Haala replies matter of factly. Then his expression softens and he brushes a strand of hair from Marzila’s face. “I don’t know. You could get anyone you want, you’re settling way below your class.”

Marzila laughs, like she does every time Haala starts that line of thinking, and nuzzles his cheek. “You think?”

Haala inclines his head and buries his hand in Marzila’s hair, rubbing her scalp absently. “I’m like one of those people in the ancient songs who somehow got a fire goddess in their bed.”

Marzila laughs, unable to help it, warmth chasing away the worry in her heart.

Haala sighs, defeated. “It sounds horrible leaving my mouth and I know it. Stop making it worse.”

Marzila only laughs harder.

Haala groans and nudges her side. “Stop it!”

Marzila shakes her head and buries her face in Haala’s chest. Haala sighs and wraps his arms around Marzila.

It takes a few dobashes, but eventually Marzila’s laughter fades into soft chuckles, then thoughtful silence. Haala plays with her hair, his claws getting tangled in the knots that have formed there despite the tight braid Marzila had re-done in the morning.

“I’m worried about Keith,” Marzila says quietly, almost hoping Haala doesn’t hear her.

Haala shifts. “Me too. I don’t know if you taught him well enough for him to be able to protect himself.”

Marzila hears the attempted joke in Haala’s voice, but it falls so flat neither of them pretends it was funny.

“Maybe we should go get him ourselves,” Marzila says.

“How?” Haala asks.

Marzila shrugs. “We could take the ship. I can take on Thace and we can lock him in his quarters, and the rest of the crew won’t dare to fight me, and we could go get him back.”

Haala tilts his head. “But then we’d be on the run from the Empire for mutiny, commandeering a ship and disobeying the Prince’s orders.”

“Until the Emperor comes back,” Marzila says. “He’d want Keith back too.”

Haala hums.

“He would,” Marzila insists. “Lotor should be ordering us to get Keith, not listen to transmissions and figuring out who’s planning to overthrow him and who’s not.”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Haala says hurriedly. “But maybe there’s a reason we’re not getting Keith back right now. I for one don’t think he should be here when half of the Empire wants him dead. He’s got Voltron as a bodyguard right now, isn’t that good?”

“But he’s not with _us_.” Marzila lifts her head, pouting at Haala. “He should be with us.”

Haala sighs. “I know.”

Marzila slumps back down. There’s nothing to be done about their miserable situation. Moments later Haala returns to playing with her hair, and a dobash after that Marzila moves just enough to nip at his jaw.

 

* * *

 

Lotor knows he is being followed. His generals know it too, and they all pretend they aren’t aware of the ship tailing them even though they monitor the ships closely, trying to figure out who they belong to. It has been going on for a few weeks now; a small ship shows up near Lotor’s vessel, lingers from a quarter to a day, and then disappears.

If it was his father keeping an eye on things, Lotor might simply be annoyed, perhaps even angry at the intrusion to his privacy, but the knowledge that this is not his father or even the Witch keeping an eye on him makes Lotor uncomfortable in a way that keeps him up at night.

They are watching him, waiting, observing his behavior for signs of weakness. For a chance to attack and take the throne.

Lotor has no intention of allowing that to happen. The throne is his by birthright. _And Father would never forgive me for losing the throne._ Lotor frowns. Considering the facts — that Haggar took his father away, that no one has any idea if he is even still alive — he supposes worrying about his father’s reaction to something that might happen is not the best way for him to spend his time. He has other, more urgent things to occupy himself with.

As if on cue, Ezor enters the kitchen and clears her throat.

Lotor picks up his tea and pretends he hasn’t been standing there for several dobashes. “What?”

“We were just wondering if you wanted to do something about the ship tailing us. It’s closer than it was a varga ago.”

Lotor breathes in, the bitter smell of his tea filling his senses.

“Is Zethrid hoping to destroy the ship?” Lotor asks, turning to quirk an eyebrow at Ezor.

She smirks and inclines her head. “Of course.”

Lotor shouldn’t, but he’s tired of being tailed. “Then blow it up.”

Ezor’s smirk turns into a grin, and she skips out of the kitchen and goes to tell Zethrid the good news. Lotor takes a sip of the tea and grimaces; it’s too bitter and lukewarm. Lotor sighs and pours the tea down the drain before following Ezor to the bridge.

Everyone else is already there, and Zethrid looks happier than she has in weeks.

“We’ve taken aim at the ship, but they don’t know it yet,” she informs Lotor as he takes his seat.

“Good. Now, lets send Zykov a clear message he can understand,” Lotor replies.

Zethrid shares an excited look with Ezor. Acxa rolls her eyes, but there’s a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Narti doesn’t show any excitement over what is going on, but the cat perched on her shoulder shifts expectantly. None of them have enjoyed their constant shadows, and they are all more than happy to get rid of them.

There is a moment, between one tick and the next, where Lotor wonders if he is making the right decision. He would never call it doubt ( _an Emperor does not doubt their decisions_ , his father always says), but all the things that might go wrong following the destruction of their tail flash through Lotor’s mind, all more gruesome and severe than the last.

As the ship explodes in the distance, Lotor is all too aware that his decision might have just cost him the throne.

“From now on do not let anyone tail us,” he orders, his voice giving away none of the things plaguing his mind.

After making sure nothing else is going on, Lotor heads back to the kitchen, still wanting that cup of tea he ruined earlier.

He considers fetching Keith from the Paladins again — without the Witch breathing down his neck it would be easy — but decides against it. Even if Lotor might have disagreed with Haggar before, it’s now definitely too dangerous to bring Keith back into the Empire. Lotor is not enthusiastic about the prospect of explaining any possible injury or even death that might come Keith’s way should he return to the Empire to his father when ( _if_ ) he wakes up.

Lotor sips his tea, pleased that it’s still bitter, but not overly so. He sighs as he heads to his room, wanting a moment to himself without fearing someone walking in on him. He needs to consider the consequences of destroying the spy’s ship.

Ideally nothing will happen, and perhaps if his father was still in power and the Empire wasn’t so on edge, that would be the case, but the chances of them facing no retaliation are slim at best.

Lotor suspects he is going to be a target for an attack, but on what scale, he does not know.

 

* * *

 

_Then fix it._

_Sure, I’ll just read a book about alien technology that’s written in a language I can’t understand and then I’ll fix the damned thing, no problem. Isn’t that how it works?_ Haala glares at the strange piece of technology, turning it in his hands and studying its hard edges and smooth surface closely. As far as he can tell, it’s a piece of broken technology, and that’s it. The answer hadn’t been what Thace had wanted to hear, and while everyone else had snickered or tried not to do so, Thace had narrowed his eyes and said _then fix it._

As if it’s that simple.

Haala groans and drops the lump of metal on the table, not really concerned about it breaking even more.

He doesn’t know what the technology is, and though he’s proud of his degree as an engineer — he’d even graduated best of his class — his talents have limits. He can’t _just fix_ stuff he doesn’t understand.

What if he pokes at the wrong circuit and destroys the whole thing?

Haala grimaces and pulls up the scans he’d taken of the strange technology, and studies them absently. Again. There’s not much more he can learn from the scans, and try as he might, he can’t be certain that the simulations he runs of the technology — of the rewirings and replaced circuits he’d have to implement — would actually work.

If Thace didn’t want the technology fixed it wouldn’t be that much of a problem. If Haala didn’t have so much pride in his abilities it wouldn’t be a problem at all.

Deciding he deserves a break, Haala pushes himself up from the desk, his back aching from the quarter of sitting, and heads to the mess hall. Though perhaps calling it a mess hall is generous, as it is more of a kitchen for the small crew, at least in Haala’s opinion.

Tohek is there, sipping a drink from a tea cup that Haala doubts is actually tea. He waves at Haala, his pale eyes tired and his thick dark fur covered in oily stains. “Did you crack that lump of metal yet?”

Haala grimaces. “Not yet.”

Haala pours himself a tall glass of one of the stronger alcohols they have in their unfortunately limited selection, and joins Tohek at his table.

“You’re on duty,” Tohek points out.

“So are you,” Haala replies, saluting his glass to the air. “And I have the balls to actually drink from a glass.”

Tohek smiles and tilts his head. “True, but I’m not the one who’s uncle is in charge of the ship.”

Haala groans, his ears drooping. “Don’t remind me.”

It’s not that Haala has anything against Thace, he doesn’t; Thace is one of his favorite relatives. It’s just that having a close relative as his commanding officer makes everyone else look at him funny. Like they think he’s getting special treatment — which, he sort of does, just not when it comes to doing his job. Haala gets to run a gambling circle and talk back to Thace in his free time, and he gets to share a room with Marzila. Not that the others couldn’t share rooms with their partners if they asked, but Haala was the only one who Thace had specifically asked if it was something they wanted to do.

“Have you gotten anything from the comms?” Haala asks to change the subject.

Tohek shrugs. “Some chatter, mostly unease but nothing definitive. It’s not easy to figure out who’s just worried about this whole situation and who’s actually thinking about overthrowing the prince.”

Haala inclines his head. “Let’s hope it stays as chatter.”

Tohek sighs, his ears drooping. “Yeah.”

They lapse into silence. Haala’s mind wanders, to Marzila and her worry over Keith, to the precarious situation they are all in, to their mission.

Rooting out traitors is a job more suited for Marzila and Thace than Haala, but — as with the piece of alien tech waiting for him at his workstation — they still have use for Haala and his particular skill set.

“Do you think he’ll come back?” Tohek asks quietly, his eyes glued to his cup.

Haala doesn’t need to ask who he means, and he buries his uncertainty as deep as he can before sitting straighter. “Of course. He’s survived worse.”

“Like what?” Tohek looks up and meets Haala’s eyes, his own shining with concern.

Haala has no answer to him.

“I don’t want civil war, but if the Emperor doesn’t come back soon... there’s too many people who won’t follow the Prince.”

Haala wishes Marzi was there to lay a comforting hand on Tohek’s shoulder and tell him there would not be a civil war because Marzi would personally make sure it would never happen. But she’s not there, and Haala has to deal with the fear he can smell radiating from Tohek himself.

“We’re just gonna have to make sure that won’t happen ourselves.”

“How?”

Haala shrugs. “We’ve got Marzi on our side.”

Tohek laughs at that. “She’s terrifying, but not that terrifying. Even she can’t bring down an entire uprising.”

“Let me dream,” Haala says.

Tohek’s smile fades. “Everything’s too calm right now.”

“What do you mean?” Haala asks, more to keep Tohek from spiraling than anything.

“The comms. They’re unusually quiet lately. It’s like the Empire is holding its breath,” Tohek replies.

Haala studies him for a tick, then downs the last of his drink and stands up, shoving Tohek’s shoulder a little harder than necessary as he walks past him. “Get some rest. You seem tired.”

Tohek inclines his head as he rubs his shoulder. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Haala waits until Tohek takes his cup away, and they walk out of the mess hall together, only going their separate ways a few corridors down. Haala returns to studying the piece of tech left on his station, cursing Marzi for bringing it back from her mission again before focusing on doing his job to the best of his abilities.

He studies the lump of metal, his previous misgivings about the work forgotten, replaced by a sense of dread and the need to get answers as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

The ship is silent, more silent than the Empire’s ships are with their sentries and guards marching around, and the Galra officers milling about even at the latest of varga. Here there are no steps to be heard, no sentries or Galra walking around, no machines making noise or conversation carrying across the hallways.

Haggar glides across the floor, observing the dark hallways, enjoying their silence. It is not that she minds the Galra — she doesn’t, for the most part — but the silence gives her a chance to think.

If she could do so safely, Haggar would contact Keith and see how he’s doing with finding out more about the Princess’s magic. She frowns. Of course Alfor’s child has to have magic as well; she cannot simply be a regular child in over her head. That would be too easy.

Haggar stops, her robes rustling softly in the silence. It is not often her thoughts are as clear as they are in that moment, the memory of Alfor and Altea uncomfortably sharp in her mind. But, just as there are the memories she does not want, there’s the memories of... other things.

Like the late nights she spent in the laboratory Zarkon had gifted her, and the dinners he had brought her because _you cannot survive without eating, Honerva._ Memories of the progress she’d made, how she’d advanced science in ways no one else ever had, faster than even Alfor had dared to dream of.

Haggar frowns and continues on her way, her steps more determined. The past is gone and buried, no more than fleeting memories of a stranger that come and go at will, and there is no point lingering on them.

Haggar enters the vast laboratory, stopping only for a moment to observe her druids going about their business as if the Empire is not about to crumble to pieces around them. Haggar approaches the two studying the hologram of the star map of the region of space Haggar wishes to head to next. “Have you got news of Lotor?”

It is not that Haggar cares about the Prince herself that much

( _you two have a child_ )

but Lotor matters to Zarkon, always has; Galran family centrality, as Haggar has grown to think of it. Of course, she has a vested interest in Lotor’s wellbeing as well, but it is not the kind of interest she knows Zarkon had once hoped she would have — it had been in his eyes when they had... when Lotor had been but an infant.

“To our knowledge the Prince is safe. The druids still within the Empire are guarding him,” the druid on Haggar’s left replies.

“And the ships?”

“We have no new information on them,” the druid on Haggar’s right says. “We have still to locate the missing druid as well.”

Haggar frowns. She knows the missing druid — Kiira — because of her relationship with Keith.

 _Keith_.

The damned child who had stolen Zarkon in a way Haggar cannot recall anyone ever doing. If it was not for Keith, Zarkon would be well and the Empire would be as strong as stable as it always was.

If it was not for Keith, the Empire would surely regained control of Voltron by now.

“Keep looking for her — and keep Lotor safe,” Haggar orders, leaving the druids to do their job.

Haggar does not wander, but she walks with no real destination, heading deeper into the laboratory that encompasses nearly half of the ship. She has nothing important to see to for a few more naare, though she could always tend to Zarkon again.

Haggar would look at the mountains of information they have gathered on Zarkon’s injuries, but she knows all of it by heart, and staring at the text will not help her figure out what her next move concerning Zarkon’s treatment should be. She still feels like looking over the blood work again.

Haggar stops behind a druid hunched over a petridish. “Look at the records for anyone having gone missing from the Druid Order or home planet in the last... thirty years.”

The druid lifts his head, glances at Haggar, and inclines his head. “Is this urgent?”

Haggar considers it. “No, but do not keep me waiting either.”

With that, Haggar leaves the druid with his new orders.

She knows she promised Keith she would look over his blood work when he delivered a fresh sample, but since that is not possible anymore, perhaps it is only fair she makes sure there is no way to track Keith’s parents through the Empire’s channels — at least his possible Altean side, that is.

Soon Haggar finds herself standing in front of the doors of the room she had placed Zarkon in. The room is in the heart of the ship, safe from everything and everyone, and guarded by a shipful of druids.

Haggar opens the doors and steps into the warm, dry air, and she stays by the doors until they shut behind her. Here, the hum of the machines is inescapable but necessary to keep Zarkon alive. Haggar walks along the walls, checking the shelves and cabinets yet again to make sure there is not a single item missing from them.

Once she is sure everything is in order, Haggar picks up the deep glass bowl from the top of the cabinet nearest to the door and slowly walks to the monitors displaying every possible vital sign and statistic the druids can monitor. Haggar had not known what else to do, and seeing Zarkon’s vitals makes her feel like she is doing something.

Next she makes sure the containers holding the quintessence they are pumping into Zarkon to combat the damage done to him by Voltron and the Princess’s magic.

She sets the bowl down on the floor and makes sure that the monitors show nothing unusual. “We are approaching the Nazean system,” she says. “Lotor is still safe, but the tensions across the Empire are growing” — she spares Zarkon a look — “you should do something about it.”

Of course Zarkon does not offer her an answer, and he does nothing about the perilous state of his Empire.

Haggar allows her gaze to drift to Zarkon’s face. She scowls at him, at the expressionless, dead like calm she sees there.

“We have no news of Keith,” Haggar says, but gets no reaction or response from Zarkon — she never does.

Haggar swallows and moves the covers she’d personally selected and laid on Zarkon — the best materials one could buy, decorated tastefully in a way Zarkon would appreciate — until she can observe the faintly glowing scar the Princess had left on Zarkon’s skin.

The scar hadn’t been nearly as severe when Haggar had pulled Zarkon from the wreckage. It had traveled along his back like a bright, white lightning strike, concerning but nothing Haggar thought she couldn’t deal with. Now it has spread from Zarkon’s back to his chest, crossing over his right side and sneaking around his shoulder, edging closer and closer to his heart, almost like a twisted system of roots, spreading across Zarkon’s skin at slow but steady rate. Haggar fears that the Princess’s wrath was still in the magic, poisoning it and turning it wicked.

With a steadying breath, Haggar lays her hands above the scar, but doesn’t touch it. She closes her eyes and focuses on the magic under her hands, doing her best to ignore the need to pull away from the rotten feel of it.

Once Haggar has an understanding of the flow of the magic and the quintessence it’s poisoning, she uses her own magic to grab at it, and pulls the rotting quintessence out of the scar. The quintessence comes out black and thick — almost gooey — smelling faintly of decay, with hints of the Princess’s magic cling to it, like white glimmering gems sinking into the rot.

Haggar grits her teeth and drops the quintessence into the bowl. It lets out a sound like a spoiled fruit being dropped on the floor. Haggar focuses on pulling out more of the rotten quintessence out. A sheen of sweat covers her skin by the time she’s pulling the quintessence out for the fourth time; by the sixth time she’s out of breath and shaking, and unable to continue.

Haggar slumps on the floor, her feet refusing to carry her any longer. The stink of the quintessence makes her want to throw up. She doesn’t; instead she shoves the bowl away, glaring at the quintessence in it when it threatens to overflow.

When she catches her breath and her body stops shaking, Haggar pushes herself to her feet, and studies Zarkon’s too emotionless face. It had occurred to Haggar soon after they had discovered that there was no way to bring Zarkon back to consciousness, that perhaps the bond had broken and her worst fears of its effects had come true.

She’d wished she had torn the bond from Keith’s mind the moment they discovered it despite Zarkon’s orders ( _if you harm him I will personally make you pay for it_ ) and be done with it. Nothing good had come out if it.

Nothing good that lasted, at least. Zarkon... had been more like he was _Before_ . It had been odd, but Haggar had secretly enjoyed seeing Zarkon be more like he once was, and not so much what he became _After_. There was a strange easiness to it, like the sun was coming up after a centuries old night. But it had passed, and all that is now left is the dark and the horrors that reside in it.

Haggar settles the covers over Zarkon better, then — on a whim that Zarkon cannot deny her this time — she reaches for his face with both of her hands, and pushes her mind against his.

Zarkon would hate it, he would grow cold and stare at Haggar in silent betrayal if he was aware of what is happening. Haggar encounters no resistance, no walls, no shields, no nothing. Not even Zarkon’s mind trying to push her away. She slips into Zarkon’s mind easily, shocked by the heavy fog she encounters there. She’d expected at least something — curiosity or anger at the intrusion, thoughts or memories, anything — but there’s nothing but the fog and a profound sense of emptiness.

_Where are you?_

Haggar gets no reply, and she wades deeper into the fog. Sometimes she gets the sense she passes a beginning of a thought or a whisper of an emotion, but it never stays for long enough for her to be sure it was ever there.

It takes forever, but eventually Haggar stumbles onto... _something._ Something different... a warmth that she can’t feel, but she _knows_ it is there. Haggar frowns, trying to understand what she’s found, the realization of her discovery making her startle.

_The cursed bond._

Keith had said it had broken — frayed, he’d corrected upon pressing — and here it now is, before Haggar; the last pitiful remnants of something that was once so strong it had been rooted too deep even in Zarkon’s mind to be weeded out. It is dying, Haggar can tell that much, and for a moment she considers letting it do just that.

 _Let it die and be done with it_ , she thinks, _let it die and take the misery it brings with it._

But the bond might be the last thing keeping Zarkon truly alive. Keith is perfectly fine, and if there’s something of the bond in Zarkon’s mind, then it stands to reason there is something of the bond in Keith’s mind as well. Perhaps it is the wound the Princess had inflicted on him, rotting Zarkon from the inside that’s causing him to be ( _dead_ ) not conscious.

Haggar does her best to visualize the bond, using Keith’s description of a cable as her base. When she gets the bond to manifest in a comprehensible way, it’s dim and frayed to the point it seems beyond saving, with only two or three thin wires still holding the bond together. It seems like a lost cause, but Haggar has never been anything but welcoming of challenges.

She rolls up her metaphorical sleeves and gets to work.

It takes what feels like several varga for Haggar to locate a loose thread of the bond, and nearly half as long for her to gently tug it to the shriveled roots still clinging to Zarkon’s mind. It might not be possible for Haggar to fix the bond entirely, but she still ties the loose thread to the frayed edges of the root of the bond. When she’s sure the connection isn’t going to snap, she goes off to find another thread.

Haggar ties a total of three threads to the remnants of the bond, feeding it some of her own strength the whole time, until exhaustion takes over and she cannot go on.

Haggar waits, holding her breath without meaning to, but nothing happens. She sighs and untangles herself from Zarkon’s mind, exhausted and fearing she’ll lose herself into the connection if she doesn’t break it soon.

Haggar, tired like she hasn’t been in a long time, stares at the monitors around her, willing them to show even the smallest of changes.

But there is no change, not on the monitor’s or Zarkon’s empty face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter when I reach my next goalpost. Dunno when that'll be yet, but I'll decide it before weekend and let you know over on twitter.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I thought I'd be posting maybe two chapters this month at most, but I'm reaching my writing goals faster than expected so I'm editing chapters sooner than I thought I would edit them.

“Absolutely not,” Allura states, shaking her head.

Shiro breathes slowly before speaking again. “I don’t think they’re treating him well.”

“It’s the Blade of Marmora! They know how to treat a Galra prisoner.” Allura crosses her arms, looking away from Shiro. “And I don’t want him here.”

“And I can’t just sit back and pretend nothing’s wrong when someone is being mistreated,” Shiro shoots back, then raises his hands to pacify Allura. “It’s just that I know what it’s like to be held captive by the Galra, and I wouldn’t wish that kind of hell on anyone.”

“You didn’t have a problem with us keeping Sendak prisoner and poking around his thoughts,” Allura points out.

“That wasn’t the same,” Shiro replies. “Sendak was a commander in the Empire, and we didn’t treat him like the Galra treat their prisoners.”

“I know that, but having a Galra here — “

“You’re having a druid train you!” Shiro raises a pointed eyebrow when Allura opens her mouth to argue. “Having a low ranking Galra officer locked in one of the dozens of empty rooms here isn’t nearly as questionable. And if you have another empty cell, even better.”

Allura scowls at Shiro, then huffs and shakes her head as she looks away. “Keith got her to train me by insisting it would be beneficial to Zarkon. Did you know that?”

“Doesn’t surprise me he’d do something like that,” Shiro replies. “I can’t believe you went along with it after he tried that, though.”

“Perhaps I shouldn’t have, but I don’t see her ever returning to the Empire. It’s already falling apart and we are winning this war, soon there will be nothing for her to return  _ to.  _ I can learn from her as much as possible in the meantime.” Allura sighs and turns to the screen showing the latest movements of the Empire’s fleets and the Rebellion.

“At least think about it?” Shiro asks.

Allura sighs. “Alright. But only if you ask Keith to consider doing the test we’ve been talking about. I’ve explained to him how important it is, but he doesn’t listen to me, and he’s been avoiding the topic.”

Shiro frowns, wondering what test she’s talking about, but he still nods. “Okay. I’m not making promises that he’ll agree, but I’ll ask.”

“That’s all I’m asking for.”

Shiro spares Allura one last glance before going off to find Keith. He finds Keith in the kitchen, and he takes the opportunity to sit down with a glass of juice and an apple like fruit.

“Tell her to go screw herself,” Keith snaps, setting his tea cup down with a hard clank.

Shiro had expected his reply. “Could you tell me what test she wants to run, at least?”

“She wants to test my blood.”

Shiro frowns. “Why?”

“She thinks I might be part Altean.” Keith waves at the markings on his face. “Apparently my markings are Altean.”

Shiro stares at Keith, his eyes wide. “Altean?”

Keith nods. “Yeah.” His shoulders slump and he stares at his tea, lost in thought for a moment. “I don’t know if I want to know the truth. I’m happy being what I am now.”

“Then don’t do the test.”

Keith shakes his head. “You just said she won’t bring Gailek here if I don’t. She wants to know if I’m part Altean because if I am, then maybe there’s more of them out there.”

Shiro looks down, his brow furrowing as he thinks. He can see both of their point of views, but he’s not sure how to find the middle ground here.

“You could tell her that making me do the test is something the Galra would do,” Keith suggests, a mirthless smile spreading on his face. “She’d hate that.”

“So would you,” Shiro points out.

Keith shrugs. “I could live with it.” His expression turns serious as he studies Shiro. “Just make sure she brings Gailek here. He won’t survive with the Blade; they hate him and they won’t treat him well. And... if it’s the only way to get Allura to agree, I’ll do her stupid test.”

Shiro nods. “I promise.”

Keith relaxes, just a little. He chews his lip, mulling over something. Shiro takes a bite of his orange apple while he waits for Keith to decide if he wants to voice his thoughts.

“Could I borrow your bayard sometime?” Keith glances at Shiro. “To practice with it. Maybe you could help me?”

Shiro almost chokes on his apple. “Why would you want to practice with it?”

“Because I still suck at using it,” Keith replies.

Shiro smiles, just for a second. “I didn’t notice.”

“I can barely hold the blade in the whip form for half a minute, and I...” Keith sighs, his ears drooping. “It’s something Zarkon taught me to do. He gave the bayard to me to save me — for the Arena — and he looked like he had a sour lemon in his mouth the whole time I had it, and... I don’t know. I just want to practice with it.”

“I suppose, if we’ll have a day where we don’t have anything to do and we can spare the time... but you’re not attacking anyone with it, okay?” Shiro replies, knowing he might end up regretting it.

Keith laughs, the sound of it chasing away the worry in Shiro’s mind. “Okay.”

 

* * *

 

Keith is heading towards an elevator when Allura calls after him. He grits his teeth, but he waits for her to catch up, even if he suspects whatever Allura has to say will only make the low thrumming in the base of his skull grow into a full headache.

“I never meant to make you so uncomfortable,” Allura starts, looking apologetic. “It is just that... the idea of other Alteans surviving makes me rather, well...”

“Inconsiderate and pushy?” Keith offers.

Allura grimaces. “Yes, I suppose so.” She levels Keith with a more serious expression. “I wish you would have been comfortable enough to tell that to me personally.”

Keith shrugs, finally calling the elevator to their floor. “I’m worried about Gailek. I’d rather give up my own comfort than risk someone’s life like that.”

Allura studies Keith for several ticks. “You are a good, honorable person.”

Keith blinks, his ears twitching, then a blush creeps up his cheeks and he has to look away. “I don’t know.”

“You are,” Allura insists. “Don’t ever think otherwise. You are a good person.”

Keith refuses to meet Allura’s eyes, and she sighs.

“I’m not that old by Altean standards,” Allura starts, catching Keith’s attention again. “I make mistakes, I... I don’t always think everything I say or do through as well as I should. I try to, especially with the war, but sometimes I don’t succeed.”

The elevator doors opening and revealing Pidge and Coran inside save Keith from having to answer, and he’s quick to slip into the small space and ask Pidge what they are doing.

Allura follows him in, but she doesn’t say anything.

“We’re trying to come up with a way to track the weird quintessence losses,” Pidge says.

“We just got word that one of the planets in the Coalition that still had Galran facilities up got attacked,” Coran adds, tilting his head. “Strictly speaking, the facilities got attacked. The people who saw the incident say that a bright beam of sorts descended from the skies and struck them, and disappeared in a matter of ticks. The few people inside the facilities died and there’s no power in them anymore — all the quintessence is gone from them.”

Keith frowns, sharing a concerned glance with Allura.

“Do you think you could predict where these attacks happen next?” Allura asks.

The elevator comes to a stop, and they all file out of the doors when they open.

Pidge shakes her head slowly. “I don’t think so. The attacks have been super random and I don’t have enough data to do more than track them and their progression.”

“You could ask Kiira for help,” Keith suggests. He shrugs at the confused and dubious looks he gets. “She was on a ship that was attacked, and if this is something that’s been going on for a while then Kiira might now about it.”

“I don’t know,” Pidge mutters.

“Thace said the Galra have found ships drained of quintessence as well,” Keith adds.

“If the Galra have knowledge of whatever it is that’s eating up the quintessence, do you think Kiira would talk?” Coran asks.

Keith shrugs again.

“I’ll ask her,” Allura offers, and it’s Keith’s turn to look confused. “I’d like to think we’ve built a rapport of sorts,” Allura explains.

Keith doesn’t point out that most of Allura’s interactions with Kiira constitutes of Kiira teleporting out of Allura’s way and chiding her for poor control, or stating that Allura is impossible to teach. And they still haven’t found the kind of quintessence Kiira wants them to try out.

“And on a positive note, if these attacks continue on our side of the border, I’ll eventually have enough data to start predicting them,” Pidge says, the forced humor in her voice doing nothing to ease anyone’s mind.

 

* * *

 

The Blade bring Allura a container of the kind of quintessence she needs to train, and Keith pretends he’s not annoyed by the fact that he can’t go to another Galran ship to find the quintessence himself.

Keith goes over the latest news on the war with Tral and Rejya while he has the chance — not much has happened, but according to Rejya that’s not necessarily good — while Allura and Kolivan sort out Gailek’s transfer to the Castleship, as Allura tells Keith after the Galra have departed. Allura had decided to accept Gailek’s presence there, though she keeps her reasons for doing so to herself, but she admits she didn’t say anything before because she wasn’t sure Kolivan would agree with her.

All in all, Keith has to admit things are going pretty well for now, though he has to leave Allura in the lounge and go rest in his room; a dull headache is building at the base of his skull, and Keith claims stress as the cause.

 

* * *

 

Shiro takes Hunk, Pidge and Lance, and leaves for a mission of some sorts while Keith, Allura and Kiira meet up in the training deck, with Tral and Rejya who had arrived an hour earlier joining them, both of them unusually alert as Allura hands the quintessence to Kiira.

Keith takes a step back; the quintessence makes the air around it crackle and hum, like there’s an electric charge hanging around them. Allura glances at him and steps back as well, but Kiira happily dips her hands into the quintessence.

Allura shifts. “What do I need to do?”

Kiira examines her hands, then shuts the container. “Give me your hands. I will allow you to work with the quintessence directly once you have more control.”

Allura nods. “That makes sense.”

Keith wanders to Rejya and Tral, not wanting to be in Allura’s line of fire in case she loses control again, which Keith assumes will happen; she hasn’t had a training session with Kiira that didn’t end in something getting singed — assuming Allura generates enough magic to singe anything.

“You got the prisoner transferred here,” Rejya says, her voice displeased.

Keith narrows his eyes at her. “You’re not treating him well.”

Tral scoffs. “He’s an officer of the Empire’s army. I think we’ve been pretty polite, all things considered.”

Keith crosses his arms, his tail twitching and his ears turning back. “If you want to find a different way to change the Empire, you’re gonna have to start viewing your enemies as people. If you can’t do that you might as well join Allura and Kolivan and kill them all.”

Tral’s jaw snaps shut, and Rejya casts a thoughtful glance at Keith.

“Is it wise to have both a druid and an officer of the Empire on board a ship as sparsely manned as this one?” She asks quietly after a moment.

Keith grits his teeth. He sees her point, and understands her concerns, but Gailek and Kiira aren’t going to take over the ship.

“It’ll be fine, don’t worry.” Keith bites his lip, already hating himself for what he’s about to say next. “And besides, they’re both far more likely to talk to me than to any of you guys.”

“He’s got a point,” Tral agrees, much to Rejya’s chagrin. “They think Keith is one of them.”

“Speaking of others thinking someone is one of them” — Keith’s eyes flicker from Rejya to Tral — “have you heard from Thace?”

Tral and Rejya share a look. “Not for a while. As far as we know he’s still commanding his own crew, looking for insurgents, as he put it,” Tral says, frowning at the sight of Allura almost losing control over the magic Kiira is trying to have her wield. Kiira steps in and takes control before Allura can send sparks flying across the room, and everyone breathes a sigh of relief.

“How bad is the situation?” Keith asks. “Really? Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“It is quite bad,” Rejya admits. “At this time it is entirely possible for the Empire to get a grip of itself or implode and descent into a civil war. We can do little but wait and see what happens.”

Keith bites his lower lip. The situation with the Empire is certainly worrying, and Keith would like nothing more than to be by Zarkon’s side in that moment. He wants to see Zarkon, to make sure he’s safe and alright, to let him know that no matter what happens with the Empire, Keith is never going to abandon him.

He promised he’d never leave Zarkon, and Zarkon promised he’d never leave Keith. Sure, they are apart, but — as Keith tells himself — being apart isn’t the same as leaving someone. They’re just separated by circumstance. They didn’t abandon each other.

The dull headache Keith has been suffering from for a few days reminds him it’s still there briefly before fading into something easy to ignore, and Keith rubs his eyes. He needs rest. Maybe he  _ should _ adjust to the rhythm of the Castleship like Coran keeps telling him to do; it’d make it easier for him to get a full night’s sleep.

Tral tackles Keith to the ground a second before a bolt of Allura’s magic strikes the wall behind where Keith’s chest just was.

“Sorry!” Allura calls.

Keith rubs his head, the headache having gone from a dull throb to a pounding pain after his head struck the floor. “It’s fine. Just... learn to aim away from people?”

“I’ll try,” Allura promises. After Kiira tells her she can move again — she always makes sure Allura isn’t charged with excess magic before letting her approach others — Allura hurries to Keith’s side, Kiira close behind her. “I tried to aim away from you.”

Tral pulls Keith up until he’s sitting on the floor, his tail tangled in his legs. “What were you thinking?”

Keith gives him a confused look.

“You could’ve been hurt,” Tral continues. “You weren’t minding your surroundings.”

Keith bites his lip and he looks away. How is he supposed to explain that he was thinking of Zarkon, and that he got distracted?

“I was just... I have a headache and I wasn’t focusing on what was going on.” Keith stands up, brushing his clothes and straightening the wrinkles on them. “I think I should rest.”

Allura crosses her arms. “You said the same thing three days ago.”

Keith spreads his arms. “Well, humans get stress headaches, and there’s a war going on so I’d say we’re in a pretty stressful situation.”

“Galra don’t get headaches,” Kiira says, her calm voice quiet.

Keith’s teeth click from the speed he closes his mouth with. Kiira takes a step closer to him, and Keith barely stops himself from taking a step back. He raises his hands and leans back slightly to keep Kiira at bay. “I’m just tense and tired.”

Kiira takes another step forward, stopping so close to Keith that his hands nearly brush against her robes. “You should not be suffering from headaches.”

“I’m fine,” Keith insists.

“You are not fine,” Kiira replies. “You should have yourself examined.”

“I agree,” Rejya says. Keith throws a nasty look over his shoulder at her. “You did just hit your head,” she points out.

Keith looks at the others, pouting at their agreement with Rejya’s words written on their faces. He stares at them for a moment, but eventually his shoulders slump and he sighs. “Fine.”

Defeated and outnumbered, Keith lets Kiira and Allura lead him to the medical bay, with Tral and Rejya following them, as if to make sure Keith doesn’t run. Keith almost tells them that he’d never get far with Kiira who can teleport and do magic much more efficiently and accurately than Allura there.

Soon they enter the medical bay, and Kiira pulls Keith to stand in the middle of the room while she rummages through the cabinets. Allura, Tral and Rejya stay nearby.

It doesn’t take even a minute for Coran to join them. “Did something happen?”

“Keith hit his head,” Tral informs him.

“Not hard, but apparently having a headache is worrying,” Keith adds.

Coran tilts his head, observing Keith with interest. “The Galra are rather resilient to headaches.” He walks up to Kiira, asking her if she needs help finding something. Kiira replies too quietly for Keith to hear what she says, but Coran’s eyes flash with sympathy. He rummages through a cabinet and hands Kiira an instrument and — after doing something with it — he hands Kiira a pad as well.

Kiira bows her head as a thanks before walking up to Keith and shoving the small instrument in her hand at Keith’s head. Keith dodges, earning himself the most disappointed set of shoulders he’s ever seen from Kiira. He stays still when Kiira scans his head, not really expecting her to find anything, but worrying she’ll find something all the same.

After a minute Kiira sets the instrument and the pad away without a word and turns to Keith, tilting her head slowly. “I would like to look into your mind to make sure you are not causing the headache yourself.”

“No,” Rejya states.

“Sure,” Keith says, shrugging and ignoring the shocked noises the others make. “Do you want me to sit down or?”

“Yes, please,” Kiira replies.

“She’s not going to be poking around your head,” Rejya snaps, finally getting Keith’s attention.

“That’s not your decision.”

“Rejya has a point,” Allura says, sparing Kiira an almost apologetic look. “I know you consider her a friend, but are you comfortable letting a druid poke around your mind?”

Keith doesn’t have to think about his answer. “Yes. I let Haggar into my head, I have no problem with Kiira doing the same.”

Allura balks at Keith’s words, as do the others, but Keith ignores them in favor of letting Kiira guide him to a nearby chair. She pulls another chair up while Keith sits down, and positions it so that when she sits in front of Keith, their knees touch.

“Do not fight me,” Kiira says quietly as she lifts her hands to Keith’s face. “I am not as proficient at this as the High Priestess.”

Keith offers her a reassuring smile. “I won’t.”

Kiira studies him for a moment before pushing her mind against Keith’s, and Keith welcomes the intrusion, allowing Kiira’s mind to brush against his. She’s a less intrusive presence than Haggar, less certain of her right to be there. She waits for Keith’s permission before venturing anywhere in his mind, and it’s a welcome difference.

Kiira pokes around, studying some parts of Keith’s mind closer than others, venturing deeper and deeper into Keith’s mind.

_ What are you looking for? _

Kiira stills, surprised by Keith’s ability to communicate so easily with just his mind.

Keith mentally rolls his eyes, mimicking the feel of Zarkon doing so the best he can.  _ I shared a telepathic bond with Zarkon for a year, remember? This is easier, by the way. _

_ The bond, _ Kiira thinks back.  _ I would like to see it. _

Keith withdraws from her, growing sullen.  _ It’s not there anymore. _

_ Still, _ Kiira presses.

Keith sighs, but opens his mind to Kiira again, and shows her to the spot where the bond used to be. He turns away when Kiira starts poking at the spot, not wanting the reminder that the bond isn’t there anymore.

Kiira separates her mind from Keith’s tilting her head slightly. “You should try to relax.”

Keith barks a laugh. “No shit.”

Allura takes a step forward, eyeing Keith cautiously. “So... you are alright?”

Keith nods. “I’m fine. I could go sleep the headache away, though.”

“You should do that,” Kiira agrees and stands when Keith does.

Keith heads to the door, offering Allura a brief, reassuring smile as he goes. Kiira follows him close by. Keith slows down just a fraction and takes Kiira’s hand, and pulls her out of the medical bay and towards his room before anyone can stop him.

“Keith!” Tral calls after him.

“She’s not gonna do anything,” Keith replies and pulls Kiira away faster, ignoring the protests following them.

Kiira lets herself be dragged across the ship and into Keith’s room. Once they’re there, they wait in loaded silence for the knock and the complains that are bound to come. Sure enough, a minute or so later there is a knock on the door, and Allura steps in.

“Keith,” Allura starts, but Keith cuts her off.

“She’s staying here for a while. I’ll take her back to the cell later, okay? I just want to spend some time with my friend without her being in a jar or under constant supervision.”

Allura purses her lips, and Keith resists the urge to swallow nervously.

“You know she’s a prisoner, right?” Allura asks hesitantly.

Keith crosses his arms. “I think of her more as a guest that you guys refuse to give a chance to.” Allura narrows her eyes, and Keith raises his hands to placate her. “I just want to spend some time with my friend without it feeling like I’m visiting her in a prison, okay? She can’t go anywhere, and there’s nothing she can do from my room. You, Tral and Rejya can wait outside if you think that’ll accomplish something but... just let me have this, okay?”

Allura debates with herself, her expression shifting from one emotion to another before she sighs, her shoulders slumping. “Don’t go wandering around the ship.”

Keith smiles at her, grateful and relieved. “We won’t.”

Allura leaves them with one last displeased glance thrown over her shoulder.

Keith turns to smile at Kiira the second the door closes. Kiira’s posture relaxes, like she’s been holding herself tense for days and she can finally relax for a moment. Maybe that’s true; she’s been under constant surveillance in her cell, after all.

“Thank you,” Kiira says, her voice unusually soft.

Keith frowns. “For what?”

“The cell gets tiresome after a while,” Kiira replies with a minute shrug — more of a slight tensing of her shoulders, really.

Keith’s expression softens. “I know. I’m sorry I can’t get you out of there.”

“You try, that is enough,” Kiira says, and if it wasn’t for the sincerity in her voice Keith would have a harder time convincing himself to not argue with her.

She sighs and — to Keith’s shock — takes her mask off and rubs her eyes. It’s such a normal action and yet it catches Keith completely off guard, and he can only stand there by the door as Kiira slowly turns around, taking the room in. She stops when she’s facing Keith again, her expression bordering on blank in its neutrality.

Keith spreads his arms. “So... what do you want to do now?”

“Rest,” Kiira replies.

Keith inclines his head and waves Kiira to the bed, and encourages her to lie down for a while as he goes to dim down the lights just a bit. After a moment of hesitation Keith climbs into the bed as well, snuggling close to Kiira. They study each other in the low light.

“Are you naturally purple or are you... camouflaging yourself or something?” Keith asks quietly.

Kiira’s brow furrows minutely. “Why would I change myself?”

Keith shifts. “To hide among the Galra? They all think that... well... you look like an Altean and they’re supposed to be dead.”

The question of why Kiira so clearly has Altean heritage even though Zarkon had sworn to rid the universe of them hangs heavy between them.

Kiira shifts, biting her lip briefly. “I am not a historian, but we are taught that in the old days, when our ancestors had denounced their Altean origins and we did not consider ourselves a part of their people, we were lost and without a home. The Emperor and the High Priestess found us, and the Emperor, in his kindness, took us in and protected us and saved us from slowly dying out. We owe him and the High Priestess everything so we do what we can to help. The Guard and the Druid Order allows us to leave the safety of our home without inviting danger to our people. The people not ordained in the Order or the Guard remain mostly at home, though those of us who can blend in with others sometimes travel the universe.”

Keith nods slowly. He doesn’t understand why Zarkon would systematically eliminate Alteans, but spare a specific group of them and shelter them. He doubts it was out of kindness, but knowing that Zarkon had done it warms Keith’s heart, just a little; it just proves Zarkon isn’t as bad as everyone keeps insisting he is.

“So... how does one become a druid, then?” Keith asks, deciding to question Kiira on what the Guard is some other time,

“You must have the ability to manipulate quintessence, for start. All our children that show signs of having that ability receive training from childhood — so that they do not end up like the Princess — and should they choose to pursue a life in the Druid Order they must go through years of additional training and studies. Then you spend several years under the tutelage of the druids working on quieter outposts specializing in their chosen field — or temples, if that is what one wants to do — with little to no interaction with other people, following their lifestyle and customs, learning what that kind of life truly is before you must take four months away from the Order to decide if that life is something you truly want, as you cannot leave the Order after you have been initiated.”

Keith furrows his brow. “That sounds tough.”

“It is,” Kiira agrees, “but it is necessary. We are scientist, healers, inventors, priests in the temples and protectors of the Empire. Our work is driving us towards a better future and we must understand the importance and weight of that: it is not something to be taken lightly.”

Keith nods, then brushes a strand of hair from his face. “Can I ask you about the chip you gave me?”

“It contains our latest research on the enemy that has been attacking us,” Kiira replies readily. “You must keep it hidden.”

Keith swallows. “I will, don’t worry.” His voice is serious and quiet, and Kiira inclines her head.

“I know you will,” she says, closing her eyes. “Please guard the door.”

Keith smiles. “Sure thing.”

He lays there by Kiira’s side as she drifts to sleep, his ears tilted back to pick up any sounds coming from behind the door while his mind races through all the new information he has just learned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> At this rate you'll be getting another chapter around weekend, which isn't really a problem since I'm hoping to get this whole fic up around February at latest.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finished NaNo yesterday! Yay!

Gailek arrives in the Castleship a week later.

Coran has arranged for him to have a room, and he has installed a special high tech lock on the door with Hunk and Pidge’s help. Keith had asked why they don’t put Gailek in a cell as well, and Coran had explained that with the only cells being the ones in the room Kiira is held, Coran and Allura had decided not to place two operatives of the Empire in the same space — to keep them from communicating with each other.

Keith doesn’t care that much, as long as Gailek is going to be in the Castleship where Keith can keep an eye on him and make sure he’s treated well.

When the Blade agents escort Gailek into his new room with Coran and Allura, Keith is there, his ears flattened against his head, a scowl firmly in place and directed at the Blade agents. Gailek spares Keith a grateful look as his hands are uncuffed.

As soon as the Blade operatives and Allura have left — after the  the Blade agents make sure the locks on the door are up to their standards — Keith relaxes and turns to Gailek. “Do you need anything? Food? Shower? A book?”

“A shower would be nice,” Gailek replies.

“I think that can be arranged,” Coran says.

“And food, I assume.” Keith lifts a brow, and Gailek inclines his head.

“That’d be nice.”

Coran nods and ushers Keith out of the room. “We’ll let you get settled while I arrange for the shower and food,” he calls over his shoulder to Gailek.

“I could’ve stayed with him,” Keith says as soon as Coran locks the door.

“You could have, but Shiro requested your presence on the bridge once we’d gotten your friend settled in.”

Keith follows Coran into the elevator, his curiosity taking over. “Why?”

“He didn’t say,” Coran replies.

Keith sighs, but there’s no point in arguing. He leaves Coran once the elevator stops and heads to the bridge, curious to find out why Shiro wants him there. Allura catches up with him halfway to the bridge, and she's breathing heavily, like she’d run there. She doesn’t tell Keith what’s going on, but she does tell him she saw the Blade agents off, and she encourages Keith to hurry up.

The rest of the Paladins are on the bridge when they enter and they are all wearing grim expressions. It puts Keith on edge, and it’s the last thing Keith wants mere moments after Gailek has arrived in the Castleship.

“What’s going on?” Keith walks up to the others, his tail twitching anxiously.

Shiro waves at the large three dimensional map they have set up. Keith steps closer to study it, but making sense of the map isn’t as easy to him as it is for the others, as he isn’t used to seeing the map with so many different lights and notes on it, and he has to puzzle out their meanings.

“Another Coalition planet has been attacked by our new mystery enemy,” Shiro explains. “We’re going to take Voltron and head out to see what’s going on in there, and I’m gonna need you to make sure Kiira and your new Galra friend don’t cause any trouble while we’re gone, okay? You’re going to be staying here alone with Matt — he promised to come to help you guys out — and Coran for some time.”

“Last time you said you’d be gone for a few days you were back within a single day,” Keith mutters, his attention fixed on the map.

“Keith.”

Shiro’s voice drags Keith’s attention from the map to him.

“I need you to do this,” Shiro says.

Keith inclines his head. “I will, don’t worry. No one here will cause any problems.”

Some of the tension leaves Shiro, and he offers Keith a brief smile. “Thanks. Coran has the codes for Gailek’s door so ask him to let you in when you want to spend time with him.”

“Why can’t I have the codes myself?” Keith asks.

“Because you hope that Kiira teaching me is going to be beneficial to the Empire,” Allura says. Keith turns to her, meeting her hard gaze without blinking. “We are not going to stop you from talking to either of them, but we’re not going to give you free, unmonitored reign either.”

Keith hates that he understands where Allura is coming from, and since the others clearly agree with her, he thinks better of arguing with her over it.

“So you’re going away?” Keith asks instead, turning back to Shiro.

Shiro nods. “We’re going to see if there’s anything we can find out about whatever or whoever is attacking us as well as the Galra.”

“Did anyone talk to Kiira about it?” Keith glances over his shoulder at Allura, who nods.

“She didn’t have much to say about it, just that the druids managed to repel the first attack on the ship by combining their magic and using the ship’s weapons systems to fire at the attacking vessel, but as soon as the forces landed on their ship they were easily overpowered.”

“We’ll need to be careful,” Hunk says.

“Yeah,” Lance agrees. Pidge nods as well.

“We will be careful, don’t worry.” Shiro turns to frown at the map. “We don’t need this kind of problems right now.”

“You’ll figure it out,” Keith says. “And me and Kiira and Gailek are here to help. I could ask Gailek about what he saw on the ship while you’re gone?”

“Thanks,” Shiro says, offering Keith a brief smile. “That’d be really helpful.”

The others start going through their plans for going to the attacked planet, and Keith takes a step back, giving them some space but not leaving. He’s curious, and he likes knowing what’s going on. And besides, no one tells him to go away.

 

* * *

 

While Shiro and the others are gone, Keith sits down with Gailek to talk about what had happened on the ship Keith had found him on. Gailek speaks about it readily — he’d even shared some of his thoughts on what had happened with the Blade — but doesn’t have anything new to say.

“I really don’t know that much,” Gailek says, his voice as apologetic as the tilt of his ears. “I’m just an officer, I wasn’t even on the bridge until the very end. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Keith says, resisting the urge to sigh. “You don’t know anything about what’s been going on in the Empire with these attacks either?”

Gailek purses his lips. “No, nothing concrete, just rumors of something weird happening and the higher ups trying to keep it quiet so that the people don’t panic.”

Keith tells Gailek of what little he knows about the recent events — the attacks on the Coalition planets and the ship they’d found drifting — only leaving Gailek’s company when Coran asks him to help with dinner.

“There’s only five of us, so we could all sit down at the table,” Keith suggests as he cuts the pink vegetables into small cubes.

“If Matt has no objections to it,” Coran replies.

Keith inclines his head. “I talked to Gailek about what happened on the ship, but he didn’t know anything we don’t already know.”

Coran sighs and puts the casserole he’d decided to make into the oven before turning to face Keith, his expression contemplative and solemn. “Do you think we should tell the others about Kiira being, well... Altean?”

Keith shakes his head. “No. We promised Kiira; we can’t make that decision without her input.”

“I don’t disagree with you, entirely, but if these attacks _are_ something that Alteans might have done, then shouldn’t the others know that our kind are still around? It would make it easier for the Paladins to plan their next move easier and they wouldn’t be assuming that Alteans can’t be behind the attacks.” Coran takes a seat on the other side of the counter, opposite of Keith, and studies the cubes Keith has cut for the salad. “Aren’t we omitting crucial information by not telling them that there are Alteans still alive?”

Keith adds the cubes into the salad and moves on to cutting up the blue cucumber. “I get what you’re saying, I do, but she trusts me, and I can’t tell the others about her being Altean. I think — maybe... we could ask Kiira about it? Explain our point to her and come up with a solution together? We don’t have to tell the others about Kiira, specifically, or even the druids, we could just say something along the lines of ‘the Empire thinks there are Alteans still around somewhere and that’s why Alteans might be behind the attacks’. Maybe they’re pissed and taking revenge on the universe for what Zarkon did to your home?”

“We’re not very revenge driven people,” Coran points out. “Violence hadn’t been our way for hundreds of years even when Alfor took the throne.”

“Ten thousand years in hiding, fearing for their lives, watching the people who destroyed their home take over the universe? I’d be pissed,” Keith says.

“Perhaps,” Coran says, but he doesn’t sound convinced. “I do think we should find a way of informing the others of the Altean presence in the universe, though. If you think you can convince Kiira to agree to it, all the better.”

“I’ll talk to her,” Keith promises. “Is the food almost ready? We should ask Matt if he’s okay with Kiira and Gailek coming to the table before it is, so that we know how to set the table.”

Coran nods and stands. “I’ll go ask him.”

Coran leaves Keith to finish the salad, and Keith chops the cucumber with more force than strictly necessary, his tail whacking against the leg of his chair.

 

* * *

 

If Shiro didn’t trust Keith as much as he does, despite everything — the Galra, Keith’s love for Zarkon, him openly admitting he got Kiira to help Allura because it might benefit Zarkon — he might have some doubts about leaving Keith alone with Coran and Matt, and their two Galra guests. But Shiro does trust Keith. He trusts Keith to keep his friends in line, just as he trusts Matt to keep a level head despite the Galra around him, and he trusts Coran to look after them all.

“We’re nearing the planet,” Pidge says over the comms.

Shiro sits straighter. “Everyone be ready; we don’t know if the people who attacked the planet are still nearby.”

Everyone gives Shiro some kind of an acknowledgment of his words, and they head towards the planet in an expectant silence; they’ve all seen what their new enemy can do, and none of them are keen to get into a fight.

Allura had wanted to bring the Castleship with them, and while Shiro had been tempted to agree, that would have meant bringing a druid and a Galra close to a planet that has just been freed from the Galra, and Shiro hadn’t wanted that particular headache accompanying him. And besides, if they _do_ encounter whatever is responsible for the strange quintessence losses, and missing and dead people, Shiro feels better knowing the Castleship is at a safe distance, ready to either escape or offer back up should the Paladins need it.

They don’t encounter anything out of the ordinary as they draw closer to the egg shaped planet, and they soon land on the edges of a moss covered city. The tree like buildings rising high towards the sky that usually shine with bright greens and reds of the moss covering them have turned dull brown, and the buildings are curling in on themselves.

The grass that lines the pebble stone paths has died, and the pebbles are covered in dried leaves.

The natives that look like an odd cross of lemurs and the vegetation around them are nowhere to be seen.

“What the hell?” Pidge frowns at the sight before them.

As far as Shiro can see, the entire city has gone from bright flowers coloring the green of everything to browns and grays, with nothing living in sight; not even a cricket chirping or a bird singing in the distance.

“This is bad,” Lance says. “Really, _really_ , bad.”

“Yeah,” Hunk agrees.

“We’ll have to find someone,” Allura says. “We got called here, that means someone has to be here.”

Shiro nods. “Spread out, keep your eyes and comms open, and don’t go to far from one another.”

They do as Shiro says, and they search through the ruins of the city for a sign of life and for something, anything, that might tell them what happened.

They find nothing.

After they have spend an hour combing through the city, Shiro admits momentary defeat and calls everyone back.

Once they’re standing in the ruins of an intersection, the wooden buildings crumbling around them and the dried grass rustling in the wind.

“Pidge, I need you to go check the nearby towns and villages. See if this... whatever this is has spread.” Shiro waits until Pidge nods before turning to the others. “Allura, you’ve got the best grasp of quintessence of all of us; I need you to try to figure out if that’s got something to do with all of this. Hunk, Lance, keep an eye out for anything out of the ordinary. I’ll contact Coran and Matt, and let them know what’s going on, and instruct them to call the Rebellion and the Coalition, just in case.”

Shiro doesn’t need to tell anyone what to do twice. While Allura, Lance and Hunk go back to the ruins of the city, Shiro and Pidge head back to the Lions.

Shiro sees Pidge off before entering the Black Lion to contact the Castleship.

“Everything is going well,” Coran informs him. “We all sat down for dinner and Keith talked to Gailek about the attack on his ship, but he couldn’t tell us anything new.”

Shiro frowns, confused. “You _all_ had dinner?”

“It was Keith’s idea, and Matt agreed to it — albeit grudgingly.”

Shiro nods slowly. He’s not sure if the dinner was a good thing or not, but if everything is alright in the Castleship, then Shiro won’t complain. Instead, Shiro tells Coran what’s going on in their end, and asks him to relay the news to their allies.

“I’ll do that right away,” Coran promises before cutting the transmission. Shiro sighs, but there’s nothing more for him to do than to return to the others and help them make sense of the situation.

Less than half an hour later Shiro is running through the city towards his Lion, with Lance keeping the tail and laying covering fire and Hunk supporting Allura between them.

They had spotted the small person lurking in the shadows, covered in dark armor that blends into their surroundings.Shiro and Allura had attempted to chase them, but the person had struck Allura with a bolt of blinding white magic — much like Allura’s own — and she had fallen to the ground screaming and unable to get up without help.

Whoever is after them keeps shooting bolts of white magic everywhere, but none of them hit the Paladins. Shiro doesn’t kid himself into thinking that their assailant has bad aim and that they aren’t purposefully trying to guide Shiro and his team towards the Lions. It makes no sense, but because the Lions are where Shiro wants to go, he lets it happen, though he readies himself for anything.

Except for what happens when they near the Lions.

Hunk lets out a noise that’s somewhere between relieved and surprised when the Black Lion’s eyes light up. Shiro reaches for the Lion, for the connection they share, asking the Lion to come to their aid. The Lion stands and Shiro grits his teeth, running just a bit faster.

Blinding bolts hit the ground and buildings in front of Shiro setting everything aflame, the pure white flames rising higher than they should. Shiro and the others stumble to a halt.

The sky over them distorts, almost like there’s a transparent oil spill the size of a small ship is hovering above them.

The Black Lion leaps into the air, and Shiro’s world stops as she flies away.

Lance frowns, staring after the Lion. “What was that?“

The person following them jumps into the air, flying to the shimmering oil spill like mirage with the help of the rockets of their armor, and lands on it.

It’s definitely a ship of some kind, but Shiro has no idea who it belongs to.

Shiro grits his teeth. “We need the Lions.”

A part of the ship grows brighter, almost like a weapon charging. Seconds later the bright circle turns into a blinding beam that strikes the Blue Lion with enough force to push it back. The boom following the beam is deafening, and Shiro covers his ears without thinking, flinching away from the sound.

The beam moves from the Blue Lion to the Yellow.

“It’s draining the Lions!” Allura gasps. Hunk puts her on the ground and takes his bayard out, and fires at the shimmering ship above them.

The beam disconnects before it can do more than graze the Red Lion, and the ship starts rising, only the person standing on top of it visible, rising higher and higher into the air until they disappear all together.

“Get to the Lions!” Shiro tracks the flames with his gaze, trying to find the fastest way past them.

“This way!” Lance runs between the buildings on their left. Shiro follows him, and Hunk helps Allura up before doing the same.

Neither the Blue or Yellow Lion react to them, but Red comes to life the moment Lance enters it.

“I’m going with him,” Allura declares as she drags herself into the Lion as well. “We’re going to follow that person and whatever that glimmering thing was.”

“Wai— “ Shiro spreads his arms in defeat as the Red Lion flies off. “I guess we’ll contact Pidge, then.”

Hunk huffs, as frustrated with their inability to do anything as Shiro is. “I wonder where Black went.”

“Yeah, me too,” Shiro mutters. “Can you call Pidge to let her know what’s going on?”

“Sure,” Hunk replies.

Shiro crosses his arms and stares at the sky where his Lion had disappeared along with their assailant and the Red Lion.

 

* * *

 

Keith is moments away from defeating Matt and Coran in a game of cards when the Black Lion arrives. They don’t react to it immediately, but when the hangar doors don’t open for the Lion like they usually do, they grow worried.

Coran opens the doors remotely while Keith and Matt run through the ship into the hangar.

Keith prays Shiro is alright, that the doors are just glitching. The Lion is in the hangar, eyes tracking Keith as he approaches. It makes Keith stop. He knows, instinctively, that Shiro isn’t there, but he doesn’t know why he knows it.

Coran bursts into the hangar, out of breath from running through the ship. “What happened?”

“I don’t know,” Matt replies. “Shiro isn’t — “

“He’s not in the Lion,” Keith says. “He’s somewhere else.”

Matt turns to frown at him. “How do you know that?”

Keith crosses his arms. “I don’t know. I just do.”

“You piloted the Lion once, perhaps its using that existing connection to communicate with you. Shiro and the others must be in trouble,” Coran says thoughtfully.

Keith isn’t so sure about it, but it’s not the right time for voicing such thoughts. “Then let’s go after them.”

Coran and Matt nod and hurry out of the hangar doors. Keith stays behind, his eyes fixed on the Lion staring right back at him. There’s something there, something Keith can’t explain. It’s not like the connection he’d shared with Red — open and wide and honest. It’s not like the connection he’d shared with Zarkon either. It’s... something else.

Keith frowns and takes a step back. The Lion doesn’t move, but Keith is hit with the idea that Black is confused; that she doesn’t understand why Keith wouldn’t approach her, not after he’s tried to communicate with her for so many months now.

“So you’d help me get to Shiro but not with getting even a glimpse of Zarkon?” Keith’s ears flatten. “I didn’t even ask you to take me to him, just that you help me reach him so that I could be sure he’s alive but you won’t do that, yet you expect me to just hop in so that you can fly me to Shiro?”

The Black Lion only grows more confused.

Keith laughs and shakes his head. “Fuck you if you think I’m gonna be okay with you dictating who I get to go to. Zarkon was your Paladin, and you abandoned him when he was hurt and traumatized and he needed you. You wanna fly off to Shiro, you do it alone, I’m not abandoning Zarkon like you did and you can’t make me pick Shiro over him. If you don’t let me reach Zarkon, I’m not gonna go off to space with you to find Shiro.”

Keith turns on his heels and marches away from the Lion and to the bridge where Matt and Coran are anxiously waiting for them to arrive at their destination.

 

* * *

 

The last thing Shiro had expected was for the Castleship to pick them up, but he’s grateful for it nonetheless. He informs Black that they’ll be having a long talk as soon as the situation is cleared and they’ve got the Red Lion and its passengers safely on board the ship.

“Track the Red Lion _now,_ ” Shiro tells Coran the second he’s on board the Castleship.

“Already on it,” Coran tells him.

“What happened?” Matt asks.

Pidge tells him what Shiro had told her. Keith listens in, his ears drawing closer to his head with Pidge’s every word.

“I have the Red Lion, fifteen dobashes to intersect,” Coran informs them.

Shiro frowns as he walks up to Coran. “That’s not far.”

“No,” Coran agrees, his voice shaded with worry.

“Can I do anything?” Keith asks.

Shiro glances at him over his shoulder, sparing him a brief smile. “No, but thanks for the offer.”

Keith inclines his head and stands back, letting the Paladins do what they need to do.

The fifteen dobashes it takes them to reach the Red Lion are some of the longest and most agonizing Shiro has ever experienced. The moment of excitement they all experience at the first sight of the Red Lion quickly turn to worry when they get no response from the Lion that is drifting in space, seeming dead.

“Can you —” Shiro swallows — “we need a tractor beam or something.”

“I’m on it,” Coran says.

As soon as the Red Lion is on board the Castleship, Coran is the first one rushing from the bridge to the hangar where he’d guided the Lion, with Keith hot on his heels and Shiro following close by.

They have to force their way into the cockpit, and Shiro tries not to pay too much attention to the scorch marks on the Lion’s sides.

They find Lance and Allura in the cockpit: Lance barely conscious in the chair and Allura on the floor, curled in a tight ball like she’s in pain, a faint glow surrounding her. Coran rushes to her side, his hand hovering above her shoulder. “Are you alright?”

Allura shakes her head. “I tried to — get Kiira. Please.”

“I’ll go,” Keith says, already hurrying out of the Lion.

“Let’s get you out of the Lion, alright?” Coran goes to help Allura to stand, but she waves him away, and climbs to her feet. As soon as Allura is shuffling out of the cockpit, Shiro picks Lance up before they all head back into the hangar. Lance groans in Shiro’s arms, and he blinks, but he doesn’t seem to be aware of his surroundings.

Allura refuses to leave the hangar and neither Coran nor Shiro want to leave her there, but Lance needs medical help as well. Hunk offers to take Lance to the healing pods, and Pidge goes with him, saying she can start setting a healing pod for him.

“Go with them,” Allura orders Coran, who, despite not wanting to do it, nods and follows Hunk and Pidge out of the hangar.

“I’ll be right back.” Coran glances at Shiro on his way out, his eyes worried.

Shiro crouches next to Allura, trying not to show his concern. Allura shakes her head minutely when Shiro opens his mouth to ask her what happened. Shiro bites his tongue, not wanting to ask her anything if she’s not up to talking, but desperate to know what happened as well.

Keith arrives with Kiira moments later — an eternity later, really — and Kiira is there by Allura’s side in seconds. “What did you do?”

Allura lifts her head from her knees, her skin glistening with sweat and her eyes pained. “We followed a ship. It tried to drain Red of power and I... I tried to stop them. I thought I could — “

“You are overflowing with quintessence. You must have gone about stopping them the wrong way. You may even have done more damage to your robot than the ship did.”

“Maybe this isn’t the best time to criticize her,” Shiro points out.

“I must know what she did wrong in order to fix it,” Kiira shoots back, and Shiro shuts up; he’s not the one who understands quintessence, after all.

Kiira tilts her head from side to side, studying Allura closely without touching her for a long minute. “We will have to safely discharge the excess quintessence from your body.”

“How?” Allura asks, her voice strained.

“A druid would bleed the quintessence from their body into a container, but as we do not have one suitable for it...” Kiira shifts. “I will take some of the charge from you. That way you will not die before we can come up with a solution.”

“She could die?” Shiro stares at Kiira, shocked and scared for Allura’s safety.

Kiira ignores Shiro and straightens her back, and offers Allura her hands. Allura takes them, her arms shaking, and for a moment nothing happens, but after a few seconds the glow surrounding Allura grows dimmer.

In the back of Shiro’s mind, he knows that letting Kiira charge up on quintessence can’t be a good idea, but he says nothing. If Kiira decides to attack them and escape it’ll be worth it if she just helps Allura before she goes.

Kiira lets go of Allura’s hands, cocking her head slightly. “We should find a barren planet where she can safely release the excess quintessence. Fast.”

Shiro nods. “I’ll find one immediately.”

“We should also put her in one of your healing pods.” Kiira stands. “To store her in stasis until we reach our destination.”

Shiro offers Allura a hand to help her stand up, but Kiira grabs his wrist and yanks him away with a lot more force than Shiro expected her to have. “Do not touch her.”

“Why?”

“She could kill you.” Kiira lets go of Shiro’s arm and walks towards the doors. The others share concerned glances, then Allura pushes herself to her feet, her legs trembling but her jaw set, and they follow Kiira towards the medical bay. Keith falls behind Allura, muttering something about keeping an eye on her and making sure she’s fine.

Every now and again, Allura glows with the quintessence. Her skin sparks a few times, and it always makes the hairs on the back of Shiro’s neck stand up. He tries to ignore it, but he also wants to get Allura into a healing pod as soon as possible.

A particularly strong spark sends Allura onto her knees, and both Keith and Shiro hurry to her side, though they’re careful not to touch her.

“I can manage,” Allura gasps. “Just give me a moment.”

Shiro shares a concerned glance with Keith, but doesn’t say anything.

“We should move quickly,” Kiira says. She’s standing a few feet from everyone else, her tense shoulders betraying her uneasiness with the situation.

Allura nods and gets up, but she stumbles as soon as she’s on her feet. Shiro barely stops himself from reaching out to her, but Keith isn’t quite so quick. He takes hold of Allura’s arm, and Allura clings to him to stop herself from falling again. When they realize what they are doing they still and stare at each other with wide eyes, both of them too scared to move.

Nothing happens. Shiro turns to Kiira and takes a step towards her, ready to tell her off for not letting them help Allura, but he’s barely opened his mouth when a blinding flash sends Allura and Keith flying to the opposite walls of the corridor.

“Keith!” Shiro blinks against the tears clouding his vision — or maybe it’s just the bright spots dancing everywhere he looks — and hurries to Keith’s side.

“Ow, fuck,” Keith groans, letting Shiro know he’s alive.

Shiro falls on the ground next to him, cradling Keith’s face in his hands. “Are you okay?”

“No, my head got smashed against a wall,” Keith complains. “Other than that, I’m fine.”

Shiro lets out a relieved breath and looks over his shoulder to where Allura is slumped against the wall, rubbing her head. She seems a little dazed, but otherwise uninjured.

Kiira doesn’t spare Allura a glance as she comes to Keith’s side, shoving Shiro out of her way and gripping Keith’s face with enough force to make Keith grimace. She tilts his head from side to side, then runs her hands down Keith’s singed clothes.

“I’m alright,” Keith insists.

“Yes,” Kiira agrees, and it’s the first time Shiro hears her sound hesitant. “Why are you not dead?”

Keith blinks. “What?”

“You should be dead. Why are you not dead?” Kiira returns her attention to Keith’s face.

“I... it was just a spark,” Keith says, worry creeping into his voice.

“He might be part Altean,” Allura says as she joins them, slumping on the ground at a safe distance.

Kiira turns to Allura. “You just unloaded enough energy into him to char the hallway and kill a full grown Havian bull. His heritage does not matter.”

Shiro glances at the corridor, only now realizing the usually white walls have a gray and black markings on them, almost like someone had tried to burn them. Shiro swallows, his eyes drifting back to Keith who is bow visibly anxious.

“I feel fine,” Keith insists, but there’s doubt in his voice.

Kiira cocks her head. “You should not feel fine.”

Keith bites his lip and Shiro wraps his arms around Keith’s shoulders, trying to comfort him despite his own worry gnawing at his insides.

Kiira tilts her head, almost considering, and Shiro knows she’s just as worried as Shiro and Keith are.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm planning to write tomorrow, and then do the edits to the next chapter before next Friday, unless something comes up.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to my new and improved internet connection I got this done today and not tomorrow. Yay!

Kiira runs every test possible on Keith, even testing his blood for everything she can think of. No one stops her; they’re all worried about Keith, and Kiira has the best understanding of quintessence out of them all.

“I cannot find anything wrong with you,” Kiira declares after two days, during which Keith hasn’t been allowed to leave the medical bay.

Keith glances at Allura and Shiro waiting for Kiira to tell them something more concrete. “So? Am I part Altean?”

Kiira studies her pad. “I cannot be certain. Besides the Galra markers in your blood there is something that could be Altean markers, but they are not like any I have ever seen. It is almost like they are form a sub-species or you have Altean ancestry. And there are a... other markers in your blood that I nor the computer recognize. Perhaps from your human side?”

Keith frowns. “Well, Haggar couldn’t even tell I wasn’t human until she specifically started studying my blood, and she only found Galran makers, so maybe it’s just leftovers from whatever you guys did to me to make me look like this” — he waves at himself — “or it’s because of what was done to me to hide me among the humans making my generics look weird.”

“Both options are possible, but I do not see you having any remnants of the procedures we did on you in your blood any more. It is far more likely that one of your parents was a close relative of Alteans; not quite like them, but close enough.” Kiira sets her pad down. “I am more interested in the markers I cannot recognize.”

Keith hops down from the examination table. “Too bad. You wanna study me, you’re gonna do it with the blood you’ve already leeched out of me.”

“So there aren’t other Alteans?” Allura cuts in. “If he isn’t — they are gone?”

Kiira doesn’t answer her for few long seconds. “Any... ‘Alteans’, alive today would not be like the ones you knew. It is entirely possible that Keith is descendant of Alteans who hid across the universe, perhaps breeding with other species on occasion, or it is simply natural evolution of a species, but if you are asking are the Alteans of your day alive, the answer is no.”

Allura’s jaw clenches, and she does her best not to let the others see how upset she is over Kiira’s words. Keith almost feels bad for her.

“So now what? Are you gonna keep testing me or can we all agree that me being part Galra probably was enough to repel Allura’s magic?”

Keith had offered that as an explanation in the beginning, and he’d explained to the others that the Galra are more resistant to the druid magic and quintessence than most species.

“No,” Kiira states. “But I have no other tests to run at this time either. I recommend you keep getting checked regularly, just so we can be sure this incident hasn’t affected you negatively.”

Keith sighs, but doesn’t argue; everyone has been eyeing him cautiously ever since Allura zapped him, and if getting checks keeps them from locking him in the medical bay, he’ll take it. Keith supposes he can’t blame them for being concerned — according to Kiira he should’ve either died or suffered severe brain damage at least — but it’s still getting annoying.

“I’m gonna go see Gailek,” Keith declares, waiting for the arguments to come.

“Okay,” Shiro says.

“I don’t think we need you here anymore, so go ahead,” Allura adds without looking at Keith.

Keith frowns, but Allura’s attention is already on Kiira.

“Now that Keith is cleared we were hoping you’d be willing to help us with this new... enemy, I suppose, that we are facing.” Allura directs her words at Kiira, ignoring Keith standing between them.

“I cannot do much from a cell,” Kiira says, “and I see no reason as to why you would require my assistance.”

“You know more about quintessence than we do, and this enemy has a habit of draining quintessence from their targets,” Shiro replies.

“Why would I help you?”

“Because cooperation against a common enemy is smart?” Keith pipes in.

Shiro nods. “We’ve agreed to give you some freedom to move around if you’ll help us.”

Kiira rearranges the instruments she’d spread out on the counters while she studied Keith, and she remains quiet for a long moment. “I would require Gailek’s assistance. I will work better with an assistant who I don’t need to shepherd all the time.”

Shiro and Allura take a few steps back to talk about it in hushed tones, while Keith makes his way back to Kiira. “Do you really need his help?”

“Yes,” Kiira replies.

“They’re gonna tell you I could help you.”

“You do not know how to handle quintessence,” Kiira points out. “And I don’t see any of the Blade of Marmora operatives being very good at following my orders.”

Keith smiles, despite himself. He doesn’t get a chance to answer her before Shiro and Allura join them.

Allura doesn’t look happy, but her shoulders are set in that determined way that Keith is slowly growing to appreciate. “We can arrange that, but you will be working under guard.”

Kiira inclines her head. “That is acceptable.”

Allura smiles and nods. “Then it’s settled.”

Keith smiles as well. The others are slowly growing more at ease around Kiira, and Keith can only hope that in time they can start seeing past their prejudices of the druids and the Galra, and maybe be more open to a less hostile takeover of the Empire.

“I’ll go tell Gailek he’s getting to work,” Keith says and walks out of the medical bay. He has to find Coran to let him into Gailek’s room, and he’s waiting for Coran to finish typing in the codes for the lock when Shiro catches up with him.

Keith lifts a questioning eyebrow, and Shiro smiles. “Just thought I’d say hi.”

Keith doubts it, but the door opens and he doesn’t want to start accusing Shiro of anything when he could be spending time with a friend.

While Gailek is happy to see Keith, he’s wary of Shiro, just like Shiro is wary of him, though Shiro hides it better.

“We have a job proposition for you,” Shiro starts.

Gailek tilts his head, a hint of curiosity appearing in his expression.

“We’re trying to find out as much as we can about the people who attacked you, and Kiira — the druid — has agreed to help us on the condition that you’ll act as her assistant.”

Gailek balks. “No thanks.”

Keith frowns. “Why not?”

Gailek shifts and glances away. “She’s a druid. I’m” — he clears his throat — “I’d rather not work with her.”

“Why not?” Keith repeats, with more force this time. Gailek winces, and Keith scolds himself for forgetting to keep his tone level; Gailek keeps thinking of Keith as Zarkon’s lover — someone to look up to and respect.

“She’s a  _ druid _ . I’m not cut out to working with one of them. What if I make a mistake and she eats me or something?”

Keith blinks slowly, his ear twitching. He glances at Shiro, seeing his own incredulousness mirrored on his face.

“I... don’t think she’ll eat you,” Keith says. “And you’re not gonna be alone with her, if that helps.”

Gailek doesn’t seem comforted by that fact. “Are you going to be there?”

Keith glances at Shiro who nods minutely, then turns back to Gailek with a smile on his face. “Sure.”

Tension evaporates from Gailek. “Then I suppose I can assist her. As long as she doesn’t demand I do anything too outrageous.”

“I’m sure she’ll be reasonable,” Shiro says, then turns to Keith. “I’m gonna go see if the others need help with the Lions. Let me know if you need anything, okay?”

Keith nods and waves Shiro goodbye before focusing his attention back on Gailek.

After the door loses behind Shiro, Keith smiles and sits on the chair by Gailek’s desk like he usually does. “So, what do you want to talk about today?”

“Tell me more about the Emperor,” Gailek replies.

Keith leans back and laughs softly. “I’ve already told you about him, and short of telling you about his personal life, I can’t really say anything more, and I doubt Zarkon would appreciate me sharing his secrets.”

Gailek’s ears droop slightly, but he inclines his head. “Then tell me about the druid? How do you know her.”

It’s an easy topic, and Keith relaxes as he starts recounting how he met Kiira and how their friendship grew.

 

* * *

 

With only two Lions at their disposal, Allura ends up piloting a shuttle as backup when they have to enter a minor skirmish on the outreaches of the Coalition’s territory. The Galra fight back, from time to time. It’s been less frequent with Zarkon gone and Lotor on the throne doing who knows what, but lately their attacks have started again, more vicious than usual, but always brief — less like they’re trying to claim territory back, and more like they’re trying to find the place to hit that hurts the most.

The Paladins take all of the attacks seriously, and despite having three of their Lions still recovering from the attack they’d suffered not a week ago, they don’t hesitate to rush to the Coalition’s aid.

“How long until the Lion’s will work again?” Lance grumbles from the shuttle.

“I don’t know,” Allura replies patiently for what seems like the hundredth time. They’ve all asked the same question at least once, and all of them — including Allura — are anxious to get Voltron back. “The attack damaged them in a way I’ve never seen before.”

“Next time we run into those people we’ll need to be more careful,” Pidge says, her voice resolute.

No one disagrees with her.

“Everyone knows what they need to do, right?” Shiro asks.

Everyone replies in affirmative, and as they near the small planet they fall silent and take a moment to ready themselves to the fight waiting for them.

Allura heads to the planet with Hunk and Lance, while Shiro and Pidge fly towards the Galran cruiser — smaller than the typical vessels they typically encounter. They make quick work of the cruiser, then head to join the others on the planet where they are needed more, as the intel they’d received had said there’s another ship landed on the planet.

“How are you doing?” Shiro asks the others over the comms.

“Knee deep in Galra sentries but otherwise we’re fine,” Hunk replies, the sound of weapons firing and explosions almost drowning out his voice.

“The ship is firing at us,” Allura adds.

“We’ll take care of it,” Shiro promises.

“I’ll take the left side,” Pidge calls and leaves Shiro’s side.

The ship fires at them as they near, but Shiro and Pidge dodge and close in on the ship, taking out the cannons before destroying the ship itself.

Pidge stays in her Lion, taking out the weapons systems the Galra have set up for cover fire. She tells Shiro she’s fine on her own, so Shiro leaves his Lion to join the others on the ground.

“Don’t fly off again.” Shiro points at Black, giving the Lion a warning glare before rushing to Hunk’s side, keeping his head down to avoid the weapons fire.

“They’ve got us pinned down,” Hunk says between explosions, “I don’t know how since there’s so few of them.”

“They’re Galra,” Shiro replies, and he doesn’t have to explain it; they all know the Galra are dangerous even in small numbers, not only because they will gladly fight to the death, but because they are highly trained in combat.

As per their plan, Lance and Hunk create an opening for Allura and Shiro to get through the sentries and to  the Galra behind them.

Allura takes out the sentries with Lance’s help, and Shiro rushes at the Galra, his arm flaring to life as he prepares to strike the surprised Galra before him.

But, for the first time in weeks, Shiro’s arm glitches.

The ground disappears from under his feet as pain flares through his body. Shiro gasps for breath and spits mud from his mouth. He can’t stay on the ground, not when he’s in the middle of a battlefield, but he can’t get his body to move.

The Galra Shiro had been aiming for lunges at him, and Shiro barely dodges his sword striking the spot Shiro’s head had just been in. Shiro rolls to the side, trying to find the strength to get off the dirt and mud, but his body won’t listen.

He  _ has _ to stand up. He can’t stay on the ground, he’ll die if he does that.

Allura tackles the Galra to the ground, saving Shiro and giving him the opportunity to get back to his feet without so much hurry. By the time he’s standing on shaky legs, Allura has killed the Galra.

“Are you okay?” She asks, panting as she turns to Shiro.

Shiro shakes his head, still trembling from the pain shooting through his body from his arm. “Something’s wrong with this.” He tries to lift his arm, but it causes him too much pain so he stops.

Allura’s expression turns grim. “Go to the Black Lion. We’ll take care of this mess; we’re winning so we can do with one less person on the field, and Pidge is ready to come in with the Green Lion anyways.”

Even though Shiro knows Allura is right, he hates it. He hates leaving his people to fight when he can’t be there for them — he’d just put them in more danger in the state he’s in. Grudgingly, Shiro does as Allura tells him to do and heads to the Black Lion, hoping he can offer some kind of back up with the Lion.

He can’t; not with one arm and the pain he’s in, but the battle is slowly dying out and soon there’s nothing for Shiro to do. He closes his eyes and focuses on breathing through the pain.

Somehow, Shiro pilots the Black Lion back to the Castleship, and Allura drags Kiira into the medical bay despite Kiira insisting she can’t help Shiro.

“I don’t care what you claim you can’t do!” Allura snaps. “You’re a druid, and druids made that arm, so  _ fix _ it.”

Kiira looks form Allura’s demanding frown to Shiro’s pained face, then back to Allura again. “I — “

“It’s fine,” Shiro cuts in, forcing himself to sit up on the table he’s slumped on. “It’s fine if you can’t do anything about it, but could you look? You do understand Galran technology better than any of us, after all.”

Shiro imagines Kiira frowns, perhaps even pouts or twists her face in annoyance, but the mask hides it, remaining expressionless. After a moment she approaches Shiro, takes a hold of the Galran arm briskly, and turns it from side to side, ignoring the way Shiro grits his teeth against the pain.

“Strip,” Kiira orders.

Shiro’s brows shoot up. “Excuse me?”

Kiira cocks her head minutely, and Shiro can feel the glare behind the mask. “I need to see the point where the arm connects to your flesh.”

Of course she does; it even makes sense.

Shiro strips himself from the waist up, pushing back the memory of being naked in front of the druids who debated whether or not his injuries needed tending or if they could throw him to a cell after putting a few bandages in place.

Kiira’s attention zeroes in on the point where metal becomes flesh. She studies Shiro’s arm, slowly turning it this way and that, her silence giving nothing away of her thoughts.

“This has not healed perfectly,” she muses after a long moment. “I would take the whole thing off and fix this” — she taps the scarring at the base of the prosthetic arm — “and have a mechanic fix the arm in the meantime.”

“I haven’t noticed anything wrong with it,” Shiro mutters.

Kiira leans back. “It doesn’t affect that arm, but it is aesthetically displeasing, and upgrading the prosthetic would pose challenges.”

“I don’t want it upgraded, I want it working like it used to.”

“That might be impossible.”

Shiro grits his teeth, but he also knows that Kiira is far more knowledgeable in Galran prosthetics — no matter what she claims — than anyone on board the Castleship.

“Kiira — “ Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. “You really can’t do anything about it?”

“I did not specialize in prosthetics,” Kiira reminds Shiro. “I cannot do much else than ease the pain under the best circumstances, but here, where I do not have even the basic medical equipment in my disposal...”

“You have plenty medical equipment at your disposal,” Allura grumbles from behind Kiira’s back.

“She’s just worried,” Shiro says before Allura accidentally angers Kiira.

Kiira still turns to Allura, her shoulders tense. “I have no use for anything here. If I were to treat the kind of injury he has, I would need my  _ Galran  _ equipment.”

“It’s fine,” Shiro says before Allura can snap at Kiira. “So, pain meds? I can do that.”

“That would be my recommendation. And get someone well versed in prosthetic mechanics to deal with the issue.” Kiira turns to Shiro. “You would have to show the arm to a druid who has specialized in prosthetics to properly fix it, but I imagine the Blade of Marmora has someone who can do somewhat adequate job at offering a temporary fix for the problem.”

Shiro nods. “Thanks, I’ll talk to the Blade. And get something for the pain.”

Kiira inclines her head, but she doesn’t leave Shiro’s side, instead she leans in closer, poking at the scars on Shiro’s side. “Keith is not here,” she says quietly.

Shiro frowns. “I noticed that.” Usually Keith is glued to Kiira’s side when she’s out of her cell, how could Shiro not have noticed his absence?

“He complained about a headache again. We had to give him a sedative to help him sleep it off.” Kiira stops running her nails across Shiro’s skin, as if getting lost in thought.

“You’re worried about him?” Shiro asks, shifting uncomfortably.

Kiira inclines her head, but the movement is stiff, like she doesn’t want to admit to being worried.

“I’ll keep an eye on him, and if he gets worse or doesn’t get better, I’ll come get you straight away,” Shiro promises.

“Thank you,” Kiira whispers so quietly Shiro almost misses, then turns to Allura. “If you have no further use for me, I would like to return to my research into our shared enemy, or my cell.”

Allura scowls, but she guides Kiira out of the medical bay, to wherever she sees Kiira’s presence is most useful at the moment. “I’ll let Coran know you need something for the pain,” Allura calls over her shoulder.

“Okay. Thanks,” Shiro replies as he slides off the examination table and starts pulling his clothes back on.

 

* * *

 

Keith wakes up, his head still pounding like he’s having the worst hangover in history. He groans and buries his face in his pillow. He needs painkillers, immediately.

Keith is still struggling to get up and get his pad from the table he’d left it on so that he can call someone to bring him the painkillers when the door opens, flooding the room in too bright light. Keith curses and buries his face into a pillow, and the door closes.

“Sorry,” Shiro says softly. “I just wanted to check on you.”

“Did you bring painkillers?” Keith grumbles into his pillow.

Shiro walks to the bed and tilts the glass of water in his hand. “It’s got some weird liquid in it. Kiira thinks it’ll help.”

Keith forces himself to sit and drinks the water in one go. “Thanks.”

Shiro smiles and nods, and sits on the edge of the bed. “We’re worried about you. This can’t be normal.”

Keith laughs. “I’m worried about myself.”

“Kiira wants to scan your brain,” Shiro says, a small frown appearing on his face.

“Of course she does.” Keith puts the glass on the floor and flops down on the bed. “It won’t help, but if it’ll make her feel better then sure, let’s scan my brain.”

Shiro’s frown deepens. “What do you mean?”

Keith almost tells Shiro about the bond. He almost tells Shiro of the last time he’d had a headache only slightly worse the one he’s having now, about how he’d rushed to Zarkon, so sure he was dying. Haggar had given him something for the pain that had worked, despite the pain being caused by the bond — Zarkon blocking Keith, specifically. “ _ The bond starts acting up when you keep yourselves separated from each other for too long _ ,” Haggar had explained when Keith had asked her about it once.

Keith shakes his head. “Nothing. I just... what is she gonna learn from a brain scan?”

“Well, she’s a druid, so who knows.” Shiro sighs and lies down by Keith’s side. After a moment Keith shuffles closer to him, until Shiro wraps his arms around him and holds him close.

“We’ll figure it out,” Shiro promises. Keith buries his face in Shiro’s shoulder in response.

There’s nothing to figure out; the bond is killing Keith, just like Haggar predicted it would. It’s going to kill Keith, and it’s going to kill Zarkon unless Haggar helps them in some way. But considering how concerned she’d been of the bond breaking and what it could do to Keith and Zarkon, Keith doubts there’s much she could do.

Shiro runs his fingers through Keith’s hair, and Keith clings to him tighter, breathing in the familiar, comforting scent of him.

After a moment Shiro shifts, hesitates for a second, then presses a gentle kiss on Keith’s forehead. Keith’s claws dig into Shiro’s back and he scrunches his eyes shut tighter to keep Shiro from seeing the tears swelling in them.

 

* * *

 

Lotor has always disliked entering ships that aren’t under his command. The Central Command is the only place he has ever been even remotely comfortable in; Lotor chalks that up to the ship being his father’s, because — despite his flaws — his father is excellent at keeping Lotor safe when he feels like it, and since his father follows the ancient Galran traditions religiously, he always feels like making sure Lotor is not being maimed or in danger. Except when it’s the Witch putting him in danger, or his teachers being too rough with him, or the Commanders making thinly veiled threats behind his father’s back that they could deny making when Lotor told his father about it.

The airlock hisses as the pressure in it stabilizes and Lotor grits his teeth, forcing his mind away from thoughts of his father. He plasters a practiced smile on his face and waits for the airlock to open, then follows Narti into the small ship they’re now firmly docked with.

Lotor would have preferred to have this meeting on board his own ship, but Thace has gathered not only information, but heavy pieces of rubble they had found drifting in space. “Hull parts and mechanical components,” Thace had informed Lotor, and Lotor wants to see them for himself.

Thace is there to greet Lotor, and he does so with nothing but respect. “We are honored to have you on board,” Thace says, and Lotor hears no lie in his voice.

Lotor offers Thace a slight nod of his head in acknowledgment of his words, then motions at Ezor and Zethrid following him. Acxa is on their ship, keeping an eye on things and ready to offer backup should they need it. “Ezor and Zethrid will see to the ship parts you found.”

Thace inclines his head and waves the officer leaning against the wall behind him closer. The officer pushes himself off the wall, his large ears flat and a scowl firmly fixed on his face. Lotor watches him approach, and Ezor, Zethrid and Narti stand slightly straighter, preparing for problems without giving it away.

“This is my nephew, Haala,” Thace introduces the officer, who — despite looking less than happy to be there — bows respectfully at Lotor. “He has worked on the mechanical parts we have found, so he can talk you through our findings better than anyone else on board.”

Lotor glances at Ezor and Zethrid, who eye Haala critically. Haala, to his credit, doesn’t pay them attention. Lotor inclines his head and waves Ezor and Zethrid to step forward.

Haala seems to be suppressing a sigh as he glances at Thace, then steps forward and walks around Narti, his ears still drawn back. “Come on, then.”

Zethrid and Ezor follow him, keeping one step too much distance between them and Haala to fully hide their readiness for a fight.

Thace’s smile has grown tight when Lotor returns his attention to him, and Lotor cannot help but fear it is because of issues Haala has with half-Galrans.

“We have monitored communications across the Empire and we recently set up a system to monitor the Rebellion’s communications as well. We acquired quite a bit of information on them as well,” Thace says as he starts heading down the corridor opposite of the way Haala had just guided Ezor and Zethrid in.

Lotor falls in step with Thace, with Narti a mere step behind him. “The Rebellion is not of concern to me.”

Thace glances at Lotor, his expression unreadable. “Tapping into their communications allows us to keep an eye on Voltron.”

Lotor does not reply.

Soon they arrive at the ship’s small communications center where Thace orders the few officers there to leave.

“We have also followed Zykov’s movements closely, and we believe he might be attempting to... stir trouble, of some kind,” Thace starts as soon as they are alone.

Lotor walks up to him, clasping his hands behind his back, Narti a few step behind him. “I am not surprised. He was trailing my ship a while back, and I have been expecting him to try something new.”

Thace seems surprised by Lotor’s words, but he recovers quickly and brings up transcripts of the communications from Zykov’s ship to the central table and triggers the holographic display over the table. It’s all very conspicuous, and Lotor raises an eyebrow at Thace.

“We have detected a code of sorts,” Thace explains as he takes a pad from the edge of the table and starts moving the bits of transcripts around. He arranges the pieces until Lotor can see what Thace and his people see when they study the transcripts, highlighting code words and pulling up the list of what Thace’s people think they might mean.

“You believe Zykov is testing the Voltron Coalition’s reaction times and capacities?” Lotor asks.

Thace inclines his head. “Having the tap in the Rebellion’s communications helped us figure this out. It is not our biggest concern, however.”

“Then what is?” Lotor glances at Thace, trying not to frown.

Thace pulls up a few specific lines from the transcripts. “We think they are trying to get to Keith.”

Lotor grits his teeth. “That cannot happen.”

“We are doing our best to intervene before any harm can come to Keith. I’ve sent my best officer to trail after Zykov — she is one of the youngest people in history to have offered a captain’s position in the Hazori Order,” Thace replies.

Lotor returns his attention to the stream of information before him, but his thoughts wander. The Hazori Order, the best trained special force unit in the Galran military, rivaling the Imperial Guard in their combat prowess. Raising through the ranks in the military is hard enough, but to get accepted into the Order, let alone gaining captain’s rank there is no small feat.

“You trust her to protect Keith?”

Thace smiles. “She trained Keith herself, under the Emperor’s orders. She is fond of him, and I have no doubt she would gladly give her life to save Keith’s, just as I have no doubt that Zykov won’t know what hit him when she comes at him.”

Lotor inclines his head, deciding that trusting Thace’s assessment is the best way to go for now. “Inform me the tick Zykov makes a move against Keith. Voltron, I do not care about, but Keith remains unharmed.”

Lotor turns to leave, but Thace’s voice stops him. “If his safety is so important, why not simply retrieve him back to the Empire where we can keep an eye on him?”

“Because he has more enemies here than with Voltron, and if Father could not stop Keith from nearly getting murdered in broad daylight on a ship he was on, we stand no chance of protecting Keith without him. And besides, the last thing the Empire needs right now is someone as controversial as Keith traipsing around. He will remain where he is, until I say otherwise.”

With that, Lotor walks away, with Narti behind him like a shadow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is gonna go to some time next week because it's long and needs a lot of editing.
> 
> Also a side note; the Hazori Order is kinda named after Hashori from Alien vs Predator: Rage Wars, because Hashori is a queen and I would die for her, and I had to acknwoledge her here somehow. Also she flies off into the metaphorical sunset with her new girlfriend so that's awesome.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	18. Chapter 18

Keith’s headaches come and go, and if he can, he keeps them to himself. He does tell Kiira what he suspects as the cause of them, but only because Kiira was bound to figure it out sooner or later anyways — she’d already looked at the bond once, after all.

Kiira worries, and Keith can’t blame her for it; he worries too. Not so much about himself, but Zarkon who is most likely unconscious and unable to tell Haggar or anyone else what’s going on.

For the first time in weeks, Keith tries to call Haggar. She doesn’t respond, and eventually Keith gives up calling her and writes her a simple message telling her of his headaches instead.

He keeps checking his pad every day for a reply, but one never comes.

 

* * *

 

The Lions recover after a few weeks, and it’s almost like nothing had ever happened. Shiro and the others are grateful to have them back, but they still decide to take it easy for one more week — just in case.

The Lions aren’t Shiro’s only concern, however; there’s also the matter of Keith’s headaches to consider. Shiro had given his best disappointed look to everyone when they had tried to argue against letting Kiira run free in the medical bay, but since Kiira is the one who has most interest in helping on top of the ability to actually help Keith, Shiro wants her to do everything she can for Keith.

“I don’t understand why we can’t just put Keith in a healing pod and be done with it,” Lance had said after the first time Kiira chased everyone but Keith and Gailek from the medial bay.

“Because Kiira thinks there’s something more going on and Keith agrees with her, and neither of them think the healing pods are a good idea,” Shiro had replied.

Now he’s not so sure. Perhaps they _should_ try putting Keith in a healing pod, just to be sure it won’t help.

“We’ve got a call from the Coalition,” Allura informs Shiro before he can decide on the best way to suggest the healing pod to Keith and Kiira. “They’ve invited us to a dinner one of the recently freed planets is holding. I think we should go.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees, “it’ll be good for us — a change to the usual routine.”

“That’s what I thought as well,” Allura replies, then, her expression turns more serious. “Do you think we should ask Keith to join us?”

Shiro hesitates before answering. “It’d be good for him to spend time with other people and get out of the ship, but with the headaches and Kiira and Gailek here, I’m not sure he’ll leave. I’ll ask him, though.”

Allura nods. “You do that. I’ll talk to the others and make sure they’re ready to represent Voltron during the dinner.”

They go their separate ways, Allura to hunt down the Paladins and Coran, Shiro to find Keith and tackle the impossible task of convincing him to leave Kiira and Gailek for a few hours.

Shiro finds Keith in Gailek’s room, and he informs Keith that he’d like to talk before leaving Keith to finish his conversation with Gailek. Shiro heads to the training deck, but halfway there he turns on his heels and strides towards the kitchen instead. He tells himself it’s because he wants a toast before practicing, and not because he’s terrified of his arm glitching again. Whatever had happened to it weeks ago seems to have been a one time thing, and no one can explain what had happened. Shiro doesn’t care that much, he just wants it to never happen again.

Shiro has just sat down with his toast when Keith enters the kitchen. “What did you want?”

“We’ve been invited to a state dinner of sorts, and I was hoping you’d join us,” Shiro replies before taking a bite of his toast.

Keith’s brow furrows, but he joins Shiro at the table. “I don’t know. Who would make sure Kiira and Gailek are okay?”

Shiro shrugs and swallows. “Coran, I suppose. The Blade might send some of their operatives here for while we’re gone.”

It does nothing to ease Keith’s mind. Infact, Shiro can see his resolution to stay on board strengthen.

“They won’t hurt your friends, I’ll make sure of it myself, okay? You should come with us, you’ve been cooped up in here for so long and it can’t be good for you.”

Keith’s face twists in disagreement, but after a moment he sighs. “You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”

Shiro smiles and shakes his head. “No.”

Keith scowls at him, his ears flattening, but not in anger. “I’ll come and stay for an hour, okay? Not a minute longer.”

It’s more than Shiro expected to get and he takes the deal immediately. “I’ll make sure there will be a seat saved for you.”

Keith sighs and stands. “Sure. Thanks. I’m gonna go help Kiira and Gailek with the... you know.”

Shiro does know, unfortunately. They still don’t know who attacked them and the Lions. The only thing they are sure of is that it was the same people responsible for the attack on the ship Kiira and Gailek had been on, along with other Galran vessels and more concerningly, some Coalition ships as well.

Shiro finishes his toast and — after letting Allura know Keith agreed to join them for the dinner — joins Keith, Kiira and Gailek in the laboratory like room Coran and Allura had cleared for Kiira to do her research in.

 

* * *

 

The dinner is held in the open, under the clear pink sky, a warm breeze rusting the bushes every now and again. Coran had administered everyone going to the planet with a compound that will help them breathe in the atmosphere that’s not quite suited for human lungs, so the Paladins are saved from having to go through the gasping for breath and dizziness of the first time they’d been on the planet.

Somehow, Allura has convinced Kolivan to join them, and as Shiro had told Keith, he brings a few of his officers to watch after Kiira and Gailek, while Antok and Rejya join him for the dinner.

 _Bodyguards._ Shiro doesn’t voice the thought out loud, but it’s clear to anyone with eyes that that’s what they are.

“Is he expecting trouble?” Matt whispers as they head towards the Black Lion — Keith had opted to go with Hunk, to Shiro’s surprise, and Matt had said he’d be joining Shiro instead of Pidge.

“I don’t know,” Shiro whispers back. “I think he’s just cautious. The Galra aren’t that well liked, and even if the Blade are on our side, they’re still not used to dealing with people of other races.”

Matt lifts a finger and does his best impression of their former politics teacher. “They are called outsiders, remember? You are going to cause a diplomatic incident with your carelessness.”

Shiro laughs, despite himself, and Matt grins at him. They get into the Black Lion, still exchanging quips, and soon they’re landing on the planet with the other Lions close by, their formation practiced.

The Paladins get swept away by the crowd as soon as they exit the Lions, and Shiro barely gets a glimpse of Matt hurrying to join Olia in the sidelines before he has to focus on the people surrounding him.

Briefly, Shiro sees Keith by Kolivan’s side, talking quietly with him and the other Galra. While the Galra get their share of distrusting looks, no one approaches them. Shiro’s smile falters at the realization that Keith choosing to stand with the Galra instead of the Paladins makes him as much a target of those looks as the Blades.

Sure, Keith looks like them, but he’s never done anything but try to hurt the people around them. He didn’t even know he was a Galra until recently. Keith doesn’t deserve it.

Shiro grits his teeth and shakes the hand offered to him, and forces himself to smile again, even if he’s not feeling quite so festive anymore.

It takes them nearly half an hour to reach the long table in the garden where the air smells of the flowers blooming around them and the ground covered in short, teal grass. To Shiro’s relief Keith is seated by his side.

“Did you have a good chat with Kolivan?” Shiro asks, curious to know how they had gotten along, and hoping to patch the minor argument he and Keith had earlier when Keith had shown up on the Castleship’s bridge wearing the same clothes he’d worn when Shiro and the others had rescued him from Zarkon, his hair pulled back with the jeweled chain Zarkon had gifted him. He’s even got the coat with Zarkon’s insignia and the heeled boots on. Keith had told Shiro they were his best clothes, and if Shiro had a problem with it Keith could always stay behind.

Keith shrugs. “He’s still pissed that I don’t like the way he treated Gailek, but I think we’ve reached an understanding.”

“That’s good,” Shiro says, observing the several utensils surrounding the square plate before him. “It’s good if you two get along.”

“We’re both adults, we can handle a difference of an opinion,” Keith says, then sits a little straighter and looks around the table. “Is there wine?”

Shiro starts; he hadn’t expected Keith to start drinking straight away. “I... I guess?”

Keith grabs his glass as he scans the table, his ears perked expectantly.

“They’ll probably serve it with the food,” Shiro says.

“Oh.” Keith slumps in his chair.

Shiro doesn’t know what to make of it, and he doesn’t know what else he can say, so he returns his attention to the utensils before him.

It doesn’t take much longer for the food to be served. Keith flags down the nearest servant, asking for the wine, and though the servant looks less than thrilled to be dealing with a Galra, they get the wine and fill Keith’s glass, their displeasure evident on their long, thin face.

“They don’t think they should be serving a Galra,” Keith says quietly after the servant is gone, observing the pale red wine in his glass for a moment before taking a tentative sip. “They think they’re better than us.”

“No they don’t,” Shiro replies just as quietly. “They’re just recovering from a Galra occupation so they’re understandably a little... reserved.”

Keith scoffs and lifts an eyebrow. “You call that reserved?”

“Maybe a little more than reserved,” Shiro amends. Keith snorts, and drinks his wine while the food is served.

Shiro chats with the people around them, sparing brief glances at Keith every now and again to make sure he’s not getting drunk and that his mood doesn’t grow too sour.

Shiro’s eyes drift across the table to Lance laughing loudly at something the young woman on his right had said. Hunk rolls his eyes across the table, while Pidge and Matt are too busy engaging in a heated discussion with who Shiro thinks is an engineer working with the Rebellion.

The rebel agent on their left hasn’t taken their various scarves or mask off, but Shiro doesn’t think too much of it; for all he knows the person can’t even breathe regular air, or they can’t deal with the light. Shiro leans towards the latter since they have a plate of fish and a large glass of water in front of them, and though they seem to observe the table closely — their attention lands on Keith more than once, but so does everyone else’s — they also sneak bits of food under their scarves.

Shiro tears his eyes from the Rebellion member, considering introducing himself and finding out why they wear the mask — as much out of curiosity as to get rid of the nagging discomfort he always feels these days when he can’t tell why someone is staring at Keith  — and turns his attention to Allura is talking with dignitaries a little to Shiro’s right, with Kolivan by her side.

Keith is the only one who remains stubbornly silent throughout the main course. When the servants collect the empty plates and exchange them to dessert cups, Keith gulps down his fifth glass of wine and stands, his tail swaying more than usual. “I think I’m gonna head back to the Castleship,” he tells Shiro, who hurries to excuse himself and strides after Keith.

Hunk looks after them, but Shiro waves his hand at him to keep him from following them.

“Keith, wait up!”

“Not wanting dessert isn’t a crime,” Keith says over his shoulder. “And I’ve already stayed over the hour I promised I’d stay.”

Shiro catches up to Keith and grabs his shoulder. “I know.”

Keith turns, narrowing his eyes. “Why did you even bring me here? They don’t want a Galra here, and you had to know they’d be like that.”

“I just...”

“What’s wrong?” Allura calls. Shiro turns to see her matching towards them, with Matt, Pidge and Hunk hot on her heels.

“Nothing’s wrong,” Keith groans.

“Keith wants to leave,” Shiro says.

“Why?” Pidge asks as they join Shiro’s side.

Keith spreads his arms, frustration clear in his face. “Because I don’t want dessert and I’ve already stayed here longer than I said I would. It’s not a big deal so stop making it into one.”

“You’re leaving?” Allura frowns. “But we are barely halfway through the event.”

“An event your hosts don’t want me or any other Galra in,” Keith replies. “I want to go back to the Castleship and read a book.”

Matt takes a step forward. “Look, Keith — “

An explosion shakes the ground, and whatever Matt was about to say drowns in the following boom.

“What the hell?” Shiro pulls Keith behind himself, painfully aware of Keith’s lack of armor. Why did he have to put on the clothes Zarkon had given him and not something more protective?

Dinner guests run past the Paladins, their screams drowned out by the second explosion sounding much closer than the first.

Kolivan appears on Shiro’s side, with Antok and Rejya following close by. “The Empire is here.”

“Why?” Allura asks even as she pulls her bayard out.

“Why does the Empire go anywhere?” Rejya grits through his teeth.

“We’ve fought them back over a dozen times, we can do it again,” Lance says.

Shiro glances at Keith. “Maybe you should go.”

“They won’t hurt me,” Keith replies and waves at his clothes. “I’m one of them.”

Shiro would argue, but the explosions draw near them fast, and he has more important things to do.

The explosions die out before they can reach Shiro and the others, but Shiro knows that was just the start; the first strike to get rid of the defenses. The ground forces will be coming sooner than Shiro and the others can mount a counter strike.

“Okay guys, make sure there are no civilians around and don’t let the Galra take the city.” Shiro prays his arm won’t glitch again as he readies for the fight. “Keith?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re not wearing armor and you’re not armed, I need you to get out of the way.”

Keith sighs. “Fine, I’ll stay out of the way. I’ll go see if Black is in a cooperative mood and will let me in or something.”

Shiro throws a grateful look over his shoulder before returning his attention to the fight ahead of him, Keith’s retreating steps easing the tightness around his chest.

 

* * *

 

Keith hates running away when he knows he could do something. Still, Shiro had a point; Keith isn’t wearing armor, and besides the dagger he’s hidden in his boot, he’s unarmed. He doubts the Galra would hurt him, not when he’s wearing the insignia of the Imperial Family, but he’d rather not get caught in the crossfire either.

So he gets out of the way, but he doesn’t head straight to the Lions either. Instead he calls Coran up on his communicator.

“Are you seeing what’s going on?”

“Yes,” Coran replies. “Do you need backup?”

“Unclear.” Keith stops in a relatively secure spot in the corner of two buildings. “What’s the situation like in space?”

“We’ve got five battle cruisers, with more on the way. We could use Voltron up here,” Coran says. “And I’ve got Kiira and Gailek on the bridge along with the Blade agents.”

“Let me talk to Kiira,” Keith says.

There’s a scuffle, then Kiira’s voice comes over the comms.

“Do you recognize the ships?” Keith asks.

“Yes, and you must get out of there; those ships belong to the Kalian fleet, they are under the control of Zykov. He wants to kill you,” Kiira replies, her voice unnaturally urgent.

Keith pales — as much as he can, anyway — and runs out of the shadows and back towards the fight. “Thanks.”

“Keith, get out of there!” Kiira calls over the comms.

“In a moment,” Keith replies.

Coran’s voice comes from the background; “who’s this then?”

Keith disconnects the comms before Coran can elaborate, and runs towards Shiro as fast as he can.

By the time Keith reaches the place he’d last seen Shiro in, the fighting is already well on its way. Keith dodges the explosion going off near him, his ears perking to catch even a hint of Shiro’s voice. He hears nothing but the sounds of fighting, and the smoke and ash in the air make his lungs burn. Keith coughs, then runs towards the nearby sounds of gunfire.

“Shiro!”

Keith gets no reply. He dodges another explosion ( _are they throwing grenades? Shooting missiles?_ ) and nearly stumbles. The alcohol he’d consumed is definitely not helping him keep his balance.

“Shiro!”

“Keith!”

Keith falters. Was that...

“ _Keith_!”

Definitely Shiro. Keith runs towards his voice, ignoring the chaos surrounding him. He finds Shiro crouched behind a piece of rock that might have once been a part of a wall. Kolivan is by his side, charging a Galran weapon he hadn’t been in a possession of when Keith had left.

Shiro scowls as Keith approaches. “You were supposed to leave!”

Keith throws himself behind the rock, panting as he settles by Shiro’s side. “I called Coran. He told me that — “

“We know, we talked to him too. We’re kinda pinned here, and the Rebellion, Lance, Antok and Rejya are covering the guests so that they get away safely. The others are making their way to the Lions to help the Castleship and help take out the ships already on the ground. We’ll head to the Lions as soon as they’re covering us, and as soon as we’re all in the Lions we’re forming Voltron and taking the Galra out.”

“Did you know that the commander of that fleet apparently wants to kill me?” Keith snaps.

It makes Shiro stop. He turns to Keith, his eyes wide. “What?”

“I talked to Kiira. I asked her if she recognized the ships and she did. I think that if we make sure the Galra know I’m not on the planet, they’ll leave.” Keith covers his ears when an explosion rings too close.

Shiro peeks over the rock, then turns to Kolivan. “Do you think we can get to Black if they know Keith is with us?”

Kolivan fires his weapon at the Galra in short, fast bursts before turning to Shiro. “It could be done, but it won’t be easy.”

“We’ll have to try,” Shiro says.

Keith lets Kolivan and Shiro come up with a plan to get to the Lions, and when they tell him to run he runs as fast as he can. Shiro pulls Keith through the streets, with Kolivan leading the way, the Galra soldiers following close by, firing their weapons at them. Shiro curses and pushes Keith ahead of him.

They make it to the edge of a crossroad, and the road to the right is blocked by a crumbled building. Kolivan stops, waving Shiro and Keith to do the same. It takes less than two seconds for Keith to understand why: Allura, Pidge and Matt are running down the road to their left towards them.

“The road’s blocked! Find another way!” Allura calls.

“Fuck.” Shiro swirls around, his arm flaring to life as he faces the Galra behind them.

The Galra have stopped firing at them, but Keith doubts that’s a good thing. One of them, a tall, hulking woman with a lieutenant's insignia on her chest, steps forward. “We are willing to leave the planet if you give him to us.” She points at Keith.

Shiro steps in front of Keith, ready to defend him. Kolivan pulls Keith closer as Allura and Pidge step between him and the Galra as well. Matt stands by Keith’s side, as ready to fight as the others.

“You’re going to have to go through us,” Allura states.

The Galra lieutenant tilts her head. “That won’t be a problem.”

Keith forces his way past his friends, ignoring their protests and Kolivan’s attempts to grab him. “Why?”

“Why what?” The Galra replies.

“Why do you want me? I’ve never done anything to any of you.”

The lieutenant scoffs and points her weapon at Keith. “Are you certain of that?”

Shiro grabs Keith’s arm, Allura pulls her bayard out, and Kolivan’s weapon fires up behind Keith.

But none of it makes the lieutenant lower the weapon even a fraction.

A high pitched whistle draws everyone’s attention to the shadows above them. A second passes, then a Galra in nearly black armor appears from the shadows. The lieutenant barely has a chance to swing her gun up before a sword pierces her chest. She crumbles to the ground, and her attacker lands and yanks the sword free in one smooth motion.

The four other Galra charge their weapons, but they don’t get to do much else; one of them falls to the sword flying through the air, the ones on either side of him get their heads smashed together with two short staffs, their skulls crashing with enough force to knock them out.

The fourth one gets a shot out before getting hit with one staff, and while he stumbles, his attacker connects the two short staffs, a surge of electricity coursing through the staff.

The officer has barely begun to recover from the hit to his head when the staff strikes his face again, accompanied by a surge of electricity that fries the officer’s face. He fall to the ground, the stink of burned flesh lingering in the air.

The situation is over in a matter of seconds.

Keith stares at the surviving Galra, barely daring to breathe, trying not to hope...

The Galra swings the staff on their shoulder and turns to Keith, the mask seemingly dissolving from her face. The air gets knocked out of Keith’s lungs when she grins winks at him.

Keith blinks, then smiles, feeling lighter than he has in months. “ _Marzi._ ”

Her grin widens, and Keith runs. Away from Kolivan and Allura, away from the Holts, from his friends. Away from Shiro.

He runs to Marzila and crashes into her with enough force to make her take a step back. She laughs, her voice like music in Keith’s ears as he clings to her like his life depends on it. She wraps her arms around him and presses her face in his hair, enveloping Keith in a warm hug.

She smells like home and Keith shudders, fighting back tears threatening to spill from his burning eyes.

“I messed you too,” Marzila chuckles, her voice cracking just a bit, and she holds Keith tighter until he can barely breathe. Keith doesn’t care.

Marzila is the first to pull away, despite Keith’s protests. “We have to run now,” she says, gripping Keith’s hand tightly. “I’ll take you home.”

Keith gets as far as taking a step after Marzila before a shot rings past them. Marzila turns, ready for a fight, and Keith does the same.

To Keith’s surprise it’s not Kolivan who fired at them, but Allura. She’s glaring at Marzila like she’s somehow personally offended her, and she’s not lowering her weapon. “Keith, get back here.”

“No.” Keith steps between Allura’s weapon and Marzila.

Shiro glances from Keith to Allura before taking a step forward. “Keith, listen — “

“No, you listen.” Keith’s ears flatten as he glares at his friends, making sure he has their attention. “I never wanted to come with you, and I don’t appreciate you shooting at my friend. I’m not staying with you.”

“What about Kiira and Gailek?” Shiro asks.

Keith stills. He hadn’t even thought about them or what him just leaving would mean to them. He glances at Marzila, trusting her to see his struggle on his face.

Marzila tilts her head and studies Shiro and the others for a moment. “Haven’t I kicked your asses before?”

Keith suppresses a groan but to his surprise, Shiro nods. “Yeah. And I think we don’t need a repeat of that right now.”

Keith’s ears perk hesitantly, and he glances at Marzila.

“I assume they weren’t with you.” Shiro waves at the dead Galra around them.

Marzila lifts an unimpressed eyebrow. “Obviously.”

Shiro nods. “We all want the same thing, we all want Keith safe, right? And this is a really bad time for us to be fighting over the same goal. So how about we get through this and fight after we’re all safe?”

Marzila leans closer to Keith. “Cute and sweet,” she whispers into his ear, and Keith rolls his eyes and shoves her, a smile tugging at his lips. Marzila straightens up, fixing her gaze on Shiro, and swings her staff lazily in the direction of the road behind Shiro. “Try to keep up, that way is blocked completely so there’s no point going in that direction.”

“She killed half a dozen Rebel agents a few weeks ago!” Matt waves his hand at Marzila, his eyes angry. “She tried to kill me!”

Marzila snorts. “I don’t _try_ to kill people. I either kill them or leave them alive. You’re welcome, by the way.”

“Screw you,” Pidge snaps.

“Shut up! Both of you!” Shiro glares at the Holts, putting all of his authority into his voice and pose.

“Shiro has a point,” Kolivan says, albeit grudgingly. “You would do well to put your personal feelings aside every now and again.”

“Take your own advice,” Keith mutters, thinking back to how Kolivan has treated Kiira and Gailek.

“Allura?” Shiro turns to Allura, watching her watch Marzila, her eyes cold and calculative.

“I don’t...” Allura shakes her head and waves Shiro aside. They go far enough for Keith to not hear what they’re saying, and he shares a look with Marzila who, despite appearing relaxed, has a tenseness about her.

After a few minutes, Allura and Shiro join the others. Shiro offers Keith a smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “We’re all in agreement.”

“Great. Let's move.” Marzila tugs at Keith’s hand again, and Keith follows her without further prompting.

The others follow them, and Keith makes a point of sticking to Marzila’s side.

“Can I have that?” Keith asks after a long minute of oppressive silence, pointing at Marzila’s sword.

“Sure,” she replies and hands the sword to Keith.

Keith tests the sword while Marzila’s helmet materializes around her head again. Keith spares her a look, and she taps at the helmet. “It’s a prototype.”

Keith doesn’t ask how she got her hands on it, and Marzila offers no further explanations. She calls someone over the comms, jumping a little, cursing under her breath before telling the person on the other end of the line where she is and that she’s got Keith. She falls silent for a long moment, then ends the call. “Haala said hi.”

Keith’s mood brightens. “I assume you’re paraphrasing.”

“Absolutely,” Marzila laughs before focusing on the road again, guiding their little group past the Empire’s forces looking for them.

“Keith,” Kolivan calls when they are nearing the garden they’d had the dinner in.

Keith sighs and slows down enough for Kolivan to catch up to him. “You know about Blade agents who are undercover and — “

“I’m not gonna tell anyone,” Keith cuts in, ignoring the bang of guilt when Thace’s face pops into his mind. “How many times do I have to tell everyone that I’m not on anyone’s side in this war?”

Kolivan studies Keith from the corner of his eye, then inclines his head. “If you are sure.”

“I am,” Keith replies, then hurries back to Marzila. She has slowed down as well, now walking nearly by Shiro’s side, and her helmet is gone. Keith offers her an apologetic look.

Marzila’s gaze flicker from Keith to Shiro to Kolivan, and her eyes get a teasing glimmer. “So, are you two a thing now?” She nods towards Kolivan.

Keith stumbles, bumping into Shiro as he sputters an answer. “What? No! Why would you... what is wrong with you?”

Marzila shrugs, an innocent smile on her lips. “I just thought. You have a type.”

“I don’t have a type,” Keith shoots back.

Marzila raises an eyebrow and nods towards Shiro. “You like him.”

“That’s not — “

“We’re not — “

Shiro glances at Keith, his cheeks turning red and his eyes wide.

Marzila ignores them both. “He’s older than you and a leader of their group, right?” Keith shakes his head at Shiro who nods, much to Marzila’s delight. “And then there’s the Emperor. So I just assumed that older authority figures do it for you.”

“Oh my God.” Keith runs his hands across his heated face, wishing for the Empire to find them and attack them, and shoot him as soon as possible. “Please, just stop talking.”

Marzila laughs softly and strides forward.

Keith doesn’t dare to glance at Shiro — and especially not Kolivan whose ears must have picked the exchange up — as he rushes after Marzila, shoving her when he catches up to her. She grins at Keith and activates her helmet again, and if it was anyone else Keith would remain annoyed, but it’s Marzila, and Keith has missed her and he can’t stay mad at her.

A minute later Marzila stills, cocking her head as if she’s listening to something. Keith and Kolivan’s ears perk, but they hear nothing. Even Allura seems confused as to what’s going on.

“We must hurry,” Marzila says, her voice urgent. She grabs Keith’s arm and pulls him forward, the others following them close by.

“What’s going on?” Keith asks.

“Your friends in orbit are not going to be able to hold the fleet back much longer, and I don’t want to be here when they all land,” Marzila replies. Keith gets the impression it’s not the whole truth, but he lets it go; there are better times to argue.

They reach an edge of a clearing, and Marzila waves them all to hide in the shadows. Keith stands behind her as she scans the clearing. Keith understands why she’s as tense as she is; if they enter the clearing, they’ll be open targets, but their surroundings are on fire and the city is crumbling, and there’s little else for them to do.

“How did you get here?” Keith asks Marzila.

“I flew a scoutship. I got in under their radar, but they know I’m here by now; I’ve taken out too many of their people for them not to realize what’s going on, and I didn’t have access to a ship that I could camouflage or hide properly. I left it... um... it’s past the clearing. The thing is, there was a small ship here when I came through, and now it’s gone.”

Shiro joins them at the corner of the burned building. “You think they’re laying a trap?”

Marzila inclines her head.

Pidge kneels on the ground by Keith’s feet, frowning at the clearing. “If I create map of the clearing, we could use it to plan our route.”

“We don’t have time for that,” Marzila replies, looking down at Pidge. “Why are you so small? Is it a species trait?”

“She’s a teenager — a child,” Keith replies absently.

Marzila’s helmet vanishes, revealing her horrified expression. “What kind of a _maxra_ thought recruiting a child to fight in a war was a good idea?”

Keith waves in Allura’s general direction, not really caring how the others feel about it. “She did.”

Marzila spares Allura an affronted look.

“Pidge can take care of herself,” Matt injects.

Marzila glares at him. “She’s a _child_.”

“She’s my sister, so my opinion weighs a lot more than yours,” Matt shoots back.

Marzila bares her teeth for a second, and Keith touches her elbow to calm her down. “You’re a bad brother for letting her into a battlefield, no matter what you think of her capabilities.” She turns to Kolivan. “And now I know what kind of people you are.”

Kolivan inclines his head. “We don’t think it’s our place to dictate how others lead their lives.”

Marzila flattens her ears. “Perhaps you should rethink that philosophy.” She turns back to the clearing before Kolivan can reply, and Keith looks at the others, silently imploring them to let the matter go. To his relief they do, but their expressions remain sour.

“We’ll have to go around the edges,” Marzila declares after a moment of silence. “We can’t afford to try to find our way around the city and risk getting lost or having to backtrack. We don’t have the time for that.”

“I agree,” Shiro says. Keith frowns at him, and the smile Shiro gives him tells Keith all he needs to know, and he smiles despite himself; Shiro might be trying to keep up peace between Marzila and the rest of them because he knows she’s Keith’s friend, but he does agree with her.

Keith mouths a thank you to him, and Shiro nods in response.

“Lets go, then,” Marzila sighs. Her helmet covers her head when she steps out of the shadows, and Keith follows her, with Shiro by his side and the others following close by.

They are all on edge, their eyes scanning the clearing, expecting to see trouble. Marzila exchanges hushed words with someone over the comms every now and again, but otherwise they travel slowly in the eerie silence.

“Something’s coming,” Marzila whispers, turning to Keith. “Get down!”

Keith barely has a chance to process what’s happening before Marzila’s pulling him down to the ground and the building on their right explodes.

 

* * *

 

When Keith comes to, his ears are ringing and the world seems far away. Shiro’s arms are wrapped around him, and Marzila is holding his hand, and as he slowly grows more aware of his surroundings, he realizes he’s not under rubble like he should be, but several feet away from the destroyed building. His head hurts, and when he reaches up and touches his temple, his fingers come away bloody.

Keith glances around, but though he sees Kolivan sitting by the rubble, he can’t see Allura, Pidge or Matt.

Next Keith turns his attention to the clearing, shocked to see Galra surrounding them. Keith tries to scramble to his feet, but Marzila and Shiro hold him in place.

The Galra commander that steps forward from the dozens around them towers over them, clearly enjoying having them on the ground before him. “I’ll withdraw my forces if you relinquish the half-breed and the traitors to our care.”

Keith knows, even with his head still hurting, that the commander is Zykov.

Slowly, Marzila stands, her expression dangerously calm. “You want him, you will have to kill us, and I doubt your people are capable enough to handle even one of us.”

Keith tears himself free form Shiro’s hold and stands as well, his feet trembling under him. Even Kolivan joins them and he steps in front of Keith while Shiro puts a steadying hand on Keith’s arm.

“You can’t beat an entire army,” Zykov says.

“Watch me,” Marzila shoots back.

Zykov growls and bares his teeth, his hand going to his sidearm. The soldiers behind him who haven’t already drawn their weapons follows his example.

“Stop!”

Keith’s jaw drops at the sound of Lotor’s voice coming from behind the Galran soldiers. Everyone reacts in a similar way, and Lotor gets to stride to Keith’s side in peace.

Lotor looks at the Galra before him, his back straight and his expression hard. “I do not recall authorizing this.”

Zykov steps forward, disdain clear on his face. “I recall we had this conversation already.”

Marzila touches Keith’s shoulder, drawing his attention to him and encouraging him to step behind her. Once she’s satisfied that Keith is safe, Marzila turns to Zykov. “You need to take a step back.”

Zykov grits his teeth and spares Marzila a glare. “I’m not the one shielding the _itsa tezhul_ of an Emperor who has been gone for months.”

Marzila curses as Keith shoves her out of his way. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Lotor grabs Keith and yanks him behind his back, and Marzila hurries to grab Keith to keep him from lunging at Zykov and murdering him with his bare hand. “How about I show you how —” Marzila clamps her hand over Keith’s mouth, shutting him up.

Lotor takes the opportunity to step forward to address the soldiers before him. “Anyone who raises a hand against Keith is attacking a member of the Imperial Family and will be tried with treason and considered traitors of the people and enemies of the Empire.”

The Galra soldiers eye each other, tense and ready to fight the person next to them if they do the wrong thing. For a moment, Zykov looks like he’ll step back, then he fires his gun at Lotor.

Shiro tackles Lotor to the ground as all hell breaks loose. Shiro pulls Lotor to his feet before rushing to Keith, grabbing his arm and pulling him away from the fight, but Keith wrenches himself free and hurries to Lotor’s side.

Lotor spares Keith a glance as he draws his sword. “Stay out of the way.”

Shiro grabs Keith’s arm again and drags him from the chaos. Keith fights against his hold, his protests drowned by the gunfire ringing all around them, from the weapons in the clearing and the shots coming from the edges of the battle, high from the top of the now empty buildings.

Shiro has barely dragged Keith to the edges of the clearing when the fight dies out, most of the Galra having escaped, some of them having taken Lotor’s side and fought against their own, some of them dead on the ground.

Zykov is nowhere to be seen.

“Let me go,” Keith grits through his teeth as he tries to pull himself free from Shiro’s hold. Shiro clings to him, his hold tightening for a moment, then he loosens his hold and Keith bolts towards Lotor and Marzila.

When Keith is back on Marzila’s side, Kolivan is also making his way to them. Even Allura wanders to them across the clearing, her hair and face covered in blood, and Shiro hurries to her side, casting one last look in Keith’s direction.

From the edges of the clearing, Keith hears Pidge and Matt call out, but he doesn’t look to them.

“Let’s go home,” Marzila says, offering Keith a brief smile.

“In a moment,” Keith says, disentangling himself from her and heading towards Lotor who is talking with a woman — half-Galran from the looks of it — that Keith doesn’t recognize. “Hey!”

Everyone’s attention snaps to Keith.

“You’re gonna fix the damage you did to Shiro or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Lotor lifts an eyebrow, and for a moment he looks so much like Zarkon that Keith falters. Lotor glances at Shiro, recognition flickering in his eyes. “The druids made that, so you would need a druid to fix it. I have none with me at the moment.”

“For fucks sake,” Keith mutters, stopping in front of Lotor and crossing his arms. “Can you at least wait until I get Kiira and Gailek from their ship? They’re Empire’s people so they’d be better off coming with us.”

Lotor studies Keith, his mouth tightening.

“Keith’s not going anywhere,” Shiro says. Keith opens his mouth to argue, but Shiro beats him to it. “No, they’re trying to kill you, and they obviously don’t give a damn about him telling them no.” Shiro nods towards Lotor, and Keith fights back the urge to defend Lotor, knowing there’s not much he can say.

“We can protect him,” Marzila snaps. “Better than any outsider ever could.”

“Keith, a moment,” Lotor says loudly, pushing past the woman next to him. Keith grumbles, but follows him.

Lotor leads Keith away from the others, well over hearing distance even for the Galra, before turning around and facing Keith with a grim expression. “I do not think it is wise for you to come with us.”

Keith’s face falls. “What?”

“Your friend is right: you are not safe in the Empire without Father there to protect you. You are better off with Voltron for now.”

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t want to stay with them. I _can’t_ stay with them.”

“I can’t protect you, and I am not willing to risk the stability of the Empire so that you can — “

“We’re dying!” Keith snaps, his teeth clashing painfully together when his jaw snaps shut.

Lotor blinks, tilting his head minutely. “What?”

Keith shouldn’t tell him, but now that he’s said it out loud he doesn’t think he can keep it to himself anymore. His vision blurs, his whole body trembling. “I need to get back to Haggar, she’s got to... I —“ Keith draws a shaky breath. “Zarkon and I got psychically bonded — long story so don’t ask — and I’ve been having these horrible headaches and the last time I had them Haggar said it’s because the bond is being neglected, and she thinks it could kill us. I need to get back to her so that she can do something about it.”

Lotor stares at Keith with wide eyes, looking him up and down. “Well. I can see how that would — are you telling me you can read Father’s thoughts?”

Keith laughs sadly. “Not anymore. And it wasn’t really like that. We could exchange emotions and impressions and ideas, but the more complex we got with it the more effort it took, and genuine thoughts... we didn’t really get that far.”

“And if these headaches of yours continue...” Lotor frowns.

“We’ll die, eventually. Possibly soon. I assume Zarkon is still in a coma or whatever since he hasn’t come get me yet, and if he can’t tell Haggar about it she might not know what’s going on. I was talking to her a while back but I haven’t heard from her in weeks.”

“She has disappeared,” Lotor replies. “But I think I might be able to get a message to her — “

“No, you have to take me with you.”

“I cannot.” Lotor at least has the decency to look apologetic. “I cannot take you. The Empire could fall apart, and I have no desire to face Father and tell him I got you killed and the Empire destroyed. Please, stay with your friends — just until I find the Witch and can ensure your safe return to her.”

Keith hates it, he hates not being able to return to Zarkon, and he says as much.

“This is the best way to make sure the Empire and you are protected. I expect Haggar will request your presence in a matter of few weeks, so it is not like you will have to stay away for much longer.”

Keith’s breath shudders as he tries to calm his mind.

Lotor touches Keith’s shoulder. “I will make sure you get back home, but not right now. I _must_ ensure the Empire’s survival.”

Keith nods, then inclines his head. “I get it.” He looks over to where Marzila is arguing with the Paladins, with three half-Galra women Keith doesn’t know behind her for backup. “Can I at least have a moment with Marzi before you leave?”

Lotor smiles, his expression softening much like Zarkon’s would. “Of course.”

Keith strides back to Marzila, grabbing her arm mid-sentence, and pulls her aside. He doesn’t have to tell her something’s wrong; she pulls him into her arms and hold him, offering comfort without needing a reason to do it.

 

* * *

 

Shiro would rush after Keith if Lotor didn’t stop him in his tracks.

“You have two of ours as prisoners. I want them returned to us immediately.”

“You’re holding thousands of ours prisoner, including our father, are we getting them back?” Matt shoots back.

Lotor doesn’t spare Matt a glance; his eyes remain fixed on Shiro. “The prisoners in return for Keith’s continued stay with you.”

Shiro grits his teeth, knowing he should say no but unable to let Keith go. “I need a moment with my team.”

Lotor inclines his head, then joins his generals while Shiro ushers his people a little further away from them. “What do you want to do?”

“We can’t give Kiira and Gailek back,” Allura says. “They know things and we need them — especially Kiira.”

“You’d give Keith back to the Empire for them? Even when it’s clear they want him dead?” Shiro asks.

Nobody has an answer to Shiro, and he’s not sure what he should do himself. Keith wants to return to the Empire, that much is clear, but Shiro doesn’t trust Keith’s desire to be genuine and not something Zarkon has put there, and he’s not willing to risk Keith’s life because Zarkon messed with his head.

“I say we give Kiira and Gailek back,” Pidge says, surprising everyone. She shrugs. “Keith might want to go back, but the Galra just tried to kill him and Zarkon messed with his head, so it wouldn’t be right. Giving Kiira and Gailek back might be risky, but at least we won’t be handing a friend over to danger.”

“I’m with her,” Shiro says.

Pidge nods, while Matt seems on the fence. Shiro turns to Allura, wanting her opinion as well. Allura sighs, her shoulders slumping. “You won’t let him go back to the Empire, and while I don’t want to hand Keith over to them either, it might be the safest opinion when thinking of everyone, not just Keith.”

“I see your point, but I can’t give Keith to them,” Shiro says. “I’m sorry.”

Allura nods. “You do what you think is best.” She heads to Kolivan observing Lotor and his people from the sidelines.

Shiro sighs. “Call Coran and let him know Kiira and Gailek are leaving.” He heads to Lotor without waiting to see his order is being followed, clearing his throat as he approaches. One of the generals — Acxa, if Shiro heard right — has disappeared.

Lotor excuses himself from his generals and gives Shiro what passes for a pleasant look. “Did you reach an agreement?”

Shiro swallows the bitterness down and nods. “Keith for the prisoners, right?”

Lotor inclines his head. “I trust you will keep him safe. He is family to us, after all.”

Shiro frowns. “He’s our friend, of course we’ll keep him safe.”

Lotor hums and turns to Keith, waving him to them when he catches his attention. Marzila follow Keith, and Shiro half expects another fight.

Keith wipes tears from his cheeks as he approaches them. “What?”

“You for the prisoners, as we agreed,” Lotor says.

Keith frowns, just for a second, before sighing. “Fine.”

“Hunk is already up in the Castleship so he’ll bring them down here,” Shiro says. “It shouldn’t take long.”

Lotor is about to reply when Acxa hurries to them. “Here.” She offers the cup in her hands to Lotor, who accepts it and waves her away with a thanks.

“Tea?” Lotor offers the cup to Keith, who hesitates before accepting the cup. “It’s still not poisoned.”

Keith snorts, but Shiro frowns. “You... have met before?”

Keith winces, but Lotor inclines his head. “Yes, though I am unsure if my presence was welcome last time.”

Keith sighs. “It was. I mean, I didn’t mind but Zarkon got... well...”

“Unreasonably offended?” Lotor suggests.

“Not the way I’d phrase it but yeah.”

Lotor smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

Shiro crosses his arms and tilts his head, directing a hard look at Keith. “Didn’t you say you don’t know him?”

Keith bites his lip and averts his eyes, his tail flicking. Marzila flattens her ears at Shiro, but Shiro ignores her.

“I was mad at you,” Keith mutters. “And technically I don’t know him, we met once and Zarkon told me he once threw up in Zarkon’s bed when he was a kid.”

Lotor’s eyes widen. “He did what?”

“And that he hogged the covers when he slept in Zarkon’s bed,” Keith continues, ignoring Lotor’s horrified expression. “And there was something about a book being eaten and destroyed capes.”

“Stop talking,” Lotor commands.

Keith rolls his eyes. “It’s not like he whipped out the baby pictures.”

“What’s taking them so long?” Marzila mutters, as if attempting to change the subject without being obvious about it, clearly uncomfortable in Lotor’s presence. His annoyance at Keith only serves to make her discomfort more obvious.

“Kiira’s probably packing, she’s been working on figuring out who the people that attacked her ship are,” Shiro replies, making a point of not saying anything about the Coalition and even Voltron falling under the mysterious attacks as well.

“She’s been helping Allura figure out her magic too,” Keith adds, then turns to Lotor. “Allura’s the one who hurt Zarkon.”

Marzila narrows her eyes. “I say we cut her to pieces.”

Keith throws her an unimpressed look. “Don’t do that. She’s a friend.”

“What kind of friend kidnaps you?” Marzila shoots back.

“The kind that thinks I’m being tortured and brainwashed and coerced into a relationship.”

Lotor laughs, surprising Shiro. “Father would loathe the thought of that.”

Keith nods and sips his tea. “That’s what I’ve been saying, but they don’t believe me.”

Shiro is saved from having to defend himself when Hunk arrives in a shuttle, with Kiira and Gailek exciting the shuttle after him. Kiira looks around, and marches towards Lotor the second she spots him.

“I request permission to stay with Keith,” she says, surprising everyone.

“You want to stay?” Shiro asks.

Kiira turns to him. “Keith requires my care.”

“What does she mean?” Marzila asks.

Keith waves her off. “I’ve got a minor headache. It’s nothing.”

“A minor headache?” Marzila repeats doubtfully.

“Yeah, it’s fine. It’ll pass. Kiira’s just an obsessive worrier,” Keith assures her.

Lotor turns to Shiro. “Do you object to her staying?”

Shiro shifts, crossing his arms. “No, but I’m not sure why you wouldn’t.”

“Because she is a member of the Empire, and I believe Father would approve of having one of ours — especially a druid — stay by Keith’s side.”

“So everyone gets what they want?” Shiro asks, glancing at Keith’s sour expression. “Or what we agreed to, at least?”

“Yes, it would seem so,” Lotor agrees. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have an Empire to run.”

Keith hurries after Lotor, talking to him in hushed tones, with Marzila following close by, and Gailek trailing hesitantly after them.

Allura comes to Shiro’s side. “Problems?”

Shiro shakes his head.

“I’m staying,” Kiira declares.

Allura relaxes, just a little. “I hoped you would, I still need help. And Keith still has those headaches.”

Kiira inclines her head.

Shiro glances over his shoulder, not surprised to see the rest of his team deep in conversation by the shuttle. Even Kolivan has joined them. Shiro sighs. “This was a mess. Did anyone get hurt?”

“Not to my knowledge,” Allura replies, then sighs. “Come on, let’s join the others. Hunk can fly us to our Lions.”

Shiro and the others debrief each other on the situation — there are some casualties and several injured, and the city is in ruin, but the situation is not quite as dire as it has been in past Galra attacks — while they wait for Keith to say his goodbyes to his Galra friends.

“And apparently Keith and Lotor do know each other,” Shiro finishes.

“What? He said he didn’t know him,” Lance says.

Matt opens his mouth, then shuts it fast when he sees Keith approaching with Gailek in tow.

Kolivan steps away from the Paladins. “I have to join my people. Let me know if you need help with that.” He nods towards Gailek before walking away.

Shiro is the only one to put on a less than sour face when Keith stops before them, still clutching his tea cup. “Gailek’s offered to help Kiira on the condition that you’ll share your findings with Lotor in two weeks, at which point he’ll return to the Empire. You’re investigating people attacking the Galra, so Lotor says he has the right to know about it.”

Allura pulls them all aside, and after a brief, hushed conversation they return to Keith and tell him that the agreement is acceptable, though they will be monitoring the information Gailek sees from now on.

Shiro is unsure if Keith is telling the entire truth, and if sharing information with Lotor is the smart thing to do, but the chances of them having anything substantial to share in two weeks time are minimal. And they can always keep Gailek from knowing about the most important things if it comes down to it.

“Ready to go?” Shiro asks, making sure none of his thoughts show on his face.

Keith’s ears flatten, but when Shiro waves him into the shuttle he goes without a complaint.

Shiro spares Keith a look over his shoulder once they’re flying towards the Lions, his heart clenching at the sight of Keith huddled against the wall, his eyes glistening with tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this!


	19. Chapter 19

Keith is in a sour mood, to put it mildly. Shiro opts to let him sulk in peace, knowing there’s nothing he can do or say to make Keith feel better about not going back to the Galra. Shiro had seen Keith with Marzila, he’d seen the joy in Keith’s eyes when he’d first seen her, he’d heard the easy banter and he’d practically felt the fondness the two had for each other.

It makes Shiro feel horrible; not because he thinks there’s anything wrong with their friendship, but because if that’s the kind of friends Keith made with the Galra, what does it say about how the Galra treated him? Maybe the Paladins had been wrong wrong when they’d taken Keith from the Galra without a moment's thought.

No, that’s not right. Keith belongs with them, with the humans and Allura and Coran. They saved Keith. Just because one Galra treats Keith as a friend, doesn’t mean the rest of them do as well.

And yet Shiro can’t help but wonder.

 

* * *

 

It takes three days for Keith to leave his room. He had missed Marzila, and seeing her did nothing to ease the emptiness her absence fills Keith with. Even his brief meeting with Lotor only makes what’s not there more obvious. Lotor who had brought Keith too sweet tea and who had more Zarkon in him than he believes, and seeing those hints of Zarkon on Lotor’s face, hearing them in his voice broke Keith’s heart by reminding him of what he’d lost.

Keith trudges to get a shower, then a snack, and then he trudges back to his room, falling in bed with a heavy sigh.

The beep of his pad is the only thing that gets him to lift his head, and he smiles faintly when he sees Lotor’s ID on the screen. They don’t keep in touch much — Lotor is too busy running the Empire to chat with Keith. Keith would have loved to get Marzila’s and Haala’s comm links as well, but Lotor had forbidden it, saying that too much chatter from the Empire to Keith’s pad in the Castleship would draw attention.

Keith opens the message, some of the weight leaving his heart.

_I sent Haggar word of your predicament and I have received a message from her._

_She is looking into it._

_Expect to return to us soon._

_Lotor_

Keith sends him a simple thank you for the message in return, feeling a little better about his situation.

He decides to start spending time with the others come morning, to keep up the appearances and to ensure he’ll have a chance to tell Kiira and Gailek the good news.

 

* * *

 

Keith has just finished pulling his boots on when there’s a knock on his door. Keith frowns, not recognizing the knock. “Come in.”

To Keith’s surprise, Kolivan steps into the room. He looks around, his hands clasped behind his back, and stops in the middle of the room before turning to Keith. “We need to talk.”

Keith finishes pulling his boot on and sits straighter. “Okay?”

“I realize you consider the Empire something of a — “

“I’m not arguing about sides with you again,” Keith cuts in.

Kolivan inclines his head. “That is not what I’m here to do. What I am saying is, you see them as your friends —“

“Not all of them.”

“— and many of us at the Blade share that sentiment to a degree, some of us even have family in the Empire. We also know how dangerous the Empire is, and we all know that a day will come when we have to choose between our alliances in the Empire and our devotion to our cause, and we have all made the choice on what will come first.”

Keith sighs. “The Blade.”

Kolivan inclines his head. “I realize the choice is hard, and I am not asking you to make it now, but think about where you stand if the worst case scenario were to happen and you would have to choose.”

Keith nods, then shifts. “This isn’t gonna make us okay, by the way. You still wanted to torture Kiira.”

“I never wanted to torture her,” Kolivan corrects him. At Keith’s confusion he adds; “we have devised a serum of sorts that would have made her complacent to suggestions. It is not guaranteed to work — the young officer we interrogated was rather resilient to it.” Kolivan tilts his head. “He will be a formidable soldier some day; he dislocated his shoulder and thumb to get out of his restraints just to strike Antok.”

Keith’s brows shoot up. “Did he actually land a hit?”

“As a matter of fact he did, though not a very successful one.”

Keith laughs, and to his surprise a hint of something that might be a smile softens Kolivan’s expression. “Whatever you think of us, we are trying to better the world in the best way we know how.”

Keith sighs, then nods. “I know. I’m just... have you ever thought about going about it in a different way?”

Kolivan takes a deep breath as he pulls the chair out from under Keith’s desk, and sits down with a heavy sigh. “The Blade was formed not long after Altea’s destruction by the head of the Imperial Guard who saw that Zarkon was not himself anymore, and could not stand by as the universe suffered. She and her followers, most of who were members of the Guard themselves, never intended to dismantle the Empire, just to find a way to return the Emperor to the person he was — our texts say he entered a space between worlds and what came back wasn’t him.”

“The rift,” Keith says.

Kolivan inclines his head. “Yes. Our cause for a long time was to save him, and after we realized that cause was futile, we spent centuries trying to destabilize the Empire and bring on its downfall that way. Recently, the Empire’s expansion has grown faster, more cruel, and we had to abandon that plan in favor of stopping the Empire all together.”

“It’s a bad plan, though.”

“We have opposed the Empire for nearly ten thousand years, and we have tried everything. We have been hunted down and slaughtered when we were discovered, and we have done our best to survive. We barely survived the last purge the Emperor enacted on us, and we returned to our mission, taking a more... subtle approach this time. Now, the Empire is crumbling and I have dozens of agents in the field, and they are all in danger. I understand your desire to see the Empire dismantled slowly, but we have tried that route and it does not work. Right now, my concern is with my agents trapped within the Empire.”

Keith swallows, unable to meet Kolivan’s eyes. “I hadn’t considered that.”

“You are young, and you are in love. It’s understandable.”

Keith huffs a laugh. “Maybe, but now I feel like a jerk. Even if you’ve been a jerk too.” He rubs his neck, his claws tangling in his hair. “Soft reset on this whole thing?”

Kolivan leans his elbows on his knees. “If I understand your meaning correctly, then yes, that would be beneficial to both of us.”

Keith smiles and nods, then, after a moment of hesitation, he says; “the quintessence you were asking Kiira about, do you still want to know about it?”

Kolivan sits straighter. “Yes.”

“I’ll ask Kiira about it, then.” Keith smiles when Kolivan inclines his head, and they both stand.

When Kolivan offers his hand to Keith, Keith takes it, clasping his fingers around Kolivan’s forearm as Kolivan does the same to him.

Keith shows Kolivan to the door, biting his lip as he considers his options. “Do you guys have someone who could cut my hair? It’s getting ridiculously long.”

Kolivan scrutinizes Keith’s hair that nearly reaches the small of his back even when tied up by now, and tilts his head. “Tral is rather efficient with a pair of scissors, but you could always start by cutting it yourself. At that length it shouldn’t be too hard.”

Keith shrugs. “I suppose. Zarkon just started complaining when I took a knife to my bangs because I did a poor job at cutting them.”

“Use scissors, not a knife,” Kolivan suggests. “But I will tell Tral you need his help with your hair.”

Keith smiles. “Thanks.”

Kolivan leaves, and Keith goes to get his coat. He follows Kolivan out of the room a few minutes later.

 

* * *

 

Shiro catches up to Kolivan as he heads towards the hangar where his ship is waiting. “You talked to Keith?”

“Yes,” Kolivan replies. “I believe we have sorted our differences out.”

Shiro lets out a relieved breath. “That’s good.”

“I was — “ Kolivan falls silent when Gailek rounds the corner.

Upon seeing them, Gailek slows down, coming to a stop before Shiro and Kolivan.

Shiro shifts. “How are things?”

Gailek glances at Kolivan uncomfortably. “Fine. Kiira asked me to get salt. I... don’t know why.”

Shiro steps aside to let Gailek pass. “There should be some in the kitchen.”

“I figured.” Gailek glances at Kolivan again, still uncomfortable, and he doesn’t move.

“You let him walk around freely?” Kolivan asks, his tone carefully diplomatic.

Shiro shrugs. “Yeah, we figured that since we’re all working together and they wanted to stay, we’d give him and Kiira some freedom during days. And besides, we’ve got locks on doors.”

Kolivan sizes Gailek up, then tilts his head. “What are you working on?”

“We’re trying to figure out who the people attacking the Empire and us and draining our ships are,” Shiro replies, sighing. “Progress has been slow.”

“It’s hard to study something we know very little about, and we don’t have much to on with,” Gailek adds.

“I’ll have someone transfer our new data on the subject to you. It is not much, but hopefully it will help,” Kolivan says.

“Thanks.” Shiro hadn’t thought the Blade would have looked into the matter as well, but as he thinks about it, he’s not sure why he’s so surprised by it; the unknown enemy is a threat to the Blade as much as it is to everyone else in the universe.

Gailek inches his way past Shiro. “I should get the salt.”

Shiro nods and waves his off before turning to Kolivan again. “They’ve been more helpful and open ever since they decided to stay.”

Kolivan starts down the hallway, ans Shiro follows. “They chose to align themselves with Keith rather than Prince Lotor; their loyalty is with him, now, so they do what Keith wants them to do.”

Shiro frowns. He doesn’t understand the Galran culture that well, but he’s discovered that loyalty is one of the cornerstones of their society so he knows it’s important. He doubts it leads to Keith being able to order Kiira and Gailek around just because they decided to stay, though, but he keeps that to himself.

“I would advise you to be careful,” Kolivan says. “Keith’s loyalties are not fixed, but as he continues to declare his love for the Emperor and he has close bonds to members of the Empire — more close than he has with some of you, it would seem — he might choose to align himself with the Empire rather than with you.”

“Keith would never do that,” Shiro replies, but his voice lacks certainty.

Kolivan spares Shiro a look. “Hope he will not, but prepare for him to do just that.”

Shiro hums, seeing the wisdom in Kolivan’s words.

“I still think you should not give him so much freedom,” Kolivan continues, “but it’s your decision. All I would ask is that you won’t tell him too much of the Blade’s business; I don’t want my people in any more danger than they are now.”

“What danger?” Shiro asks, choosing to ignore Kolivan’s suggestion.

Kolivan frowns. “About half of our operatives are undercover in the Empire. If the Empire falls, I fear what will happen to them. We have spent the last few months working on a plan to pull our operatives back, but we have yet to come up with a way to do it safely in the current environment. All our existing extraction plans are for a few individuals or planned with an Empire not on the brink of civil war in mind.”

“If you need help, we’ll be there,” Shiro promises without hesitation.

Kolivan bows his head minutely. “Thank you.”

Shiro shows Kolivan to his ship before heading to Keith’s room. He knocks on the door, hoping to see how Keith is doing after his chat with Kolivan, but there’s no answer. When Shiro peeks into the room Keith is not there.

 

* * *

 

Keith tries to smile through the bile in his throat as he sits through a movie with the others. Gailek is there by his side, acting as a decent barrier between Keith and the others — save for Shiro who’s thigh is burns against Keith’s — but it’s not enough to keep Keith from wanting to scream.

Less than halfway through the movie, Keith stands up, making excuses about going to the bathroom, and sneaks out of the room. He wanders through the hallways and he does end up in a bathroom, and since he’s there Keith takes the opportunity to splash his face with cold water. It does virtually nothing to lessen the pounding behind his eyes, but it eases the burning of his face and that’s enough for Keith.

The door to the bathroom opens and closes, but Keith keeps his eyes shut, letting the water drip from his face and into the sink.

“You okay?” Shiro asks.

Keith nods. “Yeah. Just... the movie didn’t help my headache.”

Shiro comes to stand by Keith’s side, and when Keith glances at his reflection in the mirror he’s not surprised to see a worried frown marring Shiro’s face. “This can’t be normal.”

It’s not, but there’s nothing Shiro can do about it, and Keith doesn’t know how to tell him the truth. “I’ll be fine, it’s just a tension headache. I haven’t been sleeping well since... I’m just tense.”

Shiro inches closer to Keith until he can put his hand on Keith’s neck. Shiro squeezes gently, massaging the tense muscles there, and Keith groans. “I think it’s the pillow.”

“I’ll get you a new one,” Shiro promises, even though they both know there’s nothing wrong with Keith’s pillow. Keith still nods and mutters a thank you.

“Do you want to get back to the movie or do you want to sneak into the kitchen and eat the last of the cake?”

“Definitely the cake,” Keith replies, laughing softly.

Keith dries his face, ignoring his pale reflection in the mirror, and follows Shiro out of the bathroom, their fingers brushing together every now and again. Once in the kitchen, Keith lets Shiro cut him a large piece of what Hunk had dubbed strawberry chocolate cake — topped with bluish whipped cream — and pour him a glass of juice.

“Kiira hasn’t figured out why your head hurts yet?” Shiro asks, even though they both know he knows the answer already.

“No,” Keith replies.

It’s not entirely true; Keith and Kiira both know why he’s having headaches at an alarmingly increasing rate. His latest headache has lasted for a few days now, with no respite save for the times Keith manages to get some sleep. Kiira estimates he’ll be unable to hide the truth for long, though Keith is still hoping Kiira will come up with some magical solution to the problem — literally or figuratively magical, Keith isn’t picky.

Shiro’s jaw clenches before he forces himself to smile. “I’m sure she’ll figure it out soon.”

“Yeah,” Keith sighs. Or maybe he’ll die. Keith smiles at Shiro despite his desire to scream. “It’s not even that bad most days anymore” — a lie if there ever was one — “it might just pass on it’s own. It’s probably just stress, anyways.”

Shiro doesn’t look convinced. “Allura did give you quite a zap, maybe it’s aftereffects of that?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Keith pushes the cake around his plate. “Can we talk about something else?”

“Sure.”

Instead of changing the topic, they lapse into a heavy silence. After he finishes the cake that tastes like cardboard in his mouth, Keith excuses himself and heads to his room.

 

* * *

 

Shiro groans, his muscles aching from the training he’d just put himself through. He can’t wait to get out of his sweaty clothes and into the shower. He’d had a good sparring session with Allura, one he direly needed to not only ease the tension that had been coiling up in him, but to get his mind off of Keith as well. The headaches Keith has been suffering from and the wan look of him that seems just a little worse every time Shiro sees Keith make Shiro want to walk up to Kiira and shake her and tell her to do _something,_ even when Shiro knows she’s doing everything she can.

He feels helpless and useless, and he hates it.

The shirt sticks to his skin uncomfortably, and as soon as Shiro is safely in the shower it’s the first thing he peels off, sighing when the cool air hits his damp skin. He drops the shirt unceremoniously on the ground and sits on the small bench near the door to wrestle off his boots.

Shiro is kicking off his pants when Keith bursts into the room, his eyes bright and a smile on his face, looking less worn down than he has in weeks.

“Oh, sorry!” Keith swirls around, turning his back on Shiro. “I didn’t realize you wouldn’t be wearing clothes.”

Shiro looks around slowly. “I’m taking a shower.”

Keith groans and runs his hands down his face. “I know. I wasn’t thinking.”

Shiro laughs and Keith shakes his head, drawing a deep breath. The urgent noise Keith lets out stops Shiro from finally picking his clothes up from the floor and moving them to the bench. He looks up just in time to see Keith grab his nose.

Shiro grimaces, remembering Keith’s heightened sense of smell. “Sorry, I know I’m all sweaty and —“

“It’s not that,” Keith says, “it’s not — you don’t smell bad.”

Shiro quirks an eyebrow and picks his pants off the ground, and folds them on the bench. “I’m not sure I believe you on that one.”

Keith turns to Shiro, his expression somewhere between pained and apologetic. He lets go of his nose, breathing through his mouth. “You don’t smell bad.”

“If you say so,” Shiro says and stands. “What did you want?”

Keith grins, much to Shiro’s surprise. “My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “Really?”

Keith nods enthusiastically. “Kiira blocked the headache. I let her poke around my head again and she figured out how to do it.”

“You let her into your head?” Shiro knows Keith doesn’t see a problem with having Kiira in his head, but the idea of a druid meddling with anyone’s mind, let alone Keith’s still makes Shiro uncomfortable.

Keith seems oblivious to it, however. “Yeah. She got rid of it, at least for now. It’s weird, I got so used to the pain that I almost forgot what it’s like to not have it there. I feel like I could do anything.”

Keith’s joy is contagious, and Shiro can’t help but smile as he takes a step closer to Keith, mindful of not going too close — to protect Keith’s nose from his sweaty stink, even if Keith claims it’s not a problem.

“That’s amazing.”

Keith nods and bridges the distance between him and Shiro, and — to Shiro’s shock — throws his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, burying his face in Shiro’s neck. Shiro tenses for a moment, then relaxes and pats Keith’s back awkwardly.

Keith takes a deep breath, humming quietly as he nuzzles Shiro’s neck. A second later he brushes his cheek against Shiro’s, then presses his nose into Shiro’s cheek gently, his eyes shut and a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Shiro smiles, feeling awkward. “You’ve always done that.”

“Hm?” Keith pulls away, looking confused.

“Even before the Kerberos mission,” Shiro clarifies, “you used to do... I don’t know, nuzzle my face, I suppose?”

Keith frowns, thinking it over. “It’s how the Galra show affection. It’s got something to do with scents and chemistry and all this complicated biology stuff that I didn’t quite understand. They don’t really kiss unless it’s with their mate — their life partner. It’s kinda like marriage, I suppose. But this whole” — he motions vaguely at his own and Shiro’s face — “thing is really nice, actually.”

Shiro nods, even if he doesn’t quite understand it. Keith still smiles, his eyes bright, and leans towards Shiro, as if asking permission. Shiro tilts his head forward, and Keith presses his forehead against Shiro’s, sighing softly. Hesitantly, Shiro puts his hand on Keith’s hip, not really encouraging him to move closer, but Keith still bridges the last distance between them until the material of his clothes brushes against Shiro’s skin.

Keith’s claws travel up Shiro’s arms, his touch feather light. Shiro lets him explore, and do as he pleases; if Keith gets something out of it Shiro isn’t going to stop him, even if he doesn’t quite get it.

Shiro’s eyes flicker down to Keith’s lips, still wet from Keith biting them earlier.

Shiro could kiss him. He _wants_ to kiss Keith, more than he’s ever wanted to kiss anyone, but he doesn’t dare to move.

He doesn’t have to; Keith steps closer until their chests are pressed together, and Shiro’s breath catches in his throat.

He shouldn’t. Keith just wants... whatever this is. But Shiro is running on adrenaline and he’s wanted to kiss Keith for years, and he’s _tired._ Tired of the constant war and fighting, tired of being so far away from Keith even when he’s _right there_ , tired of Zarkon looming over them even when he’s as good as dead.

So Shiro tilts his head, knowing he shouldn’t but not caring enough, until his lips brush against Keith’s.

Keith stills, but he doesn’t pull away immediately. He leans back after a second and presses his fingers on Shiro’s lips, his eyes still closed. Shiro doesn’t dare to move, fearing he’s ruined everything and not wanting to do more damage.

A moment passes, then another, until finally Keith leans back in, first pressing his mouth against his own fingers still resting on Shiro’s mouth, then moving his hands to cup Shiro’s face.

The second it takes for Keith to brush his lips against Shiro’s lasts for an eternity. Shiro doesn’t breathe — he’s not sure his heart even beats — until Keith’s lips are pressed softly against his, breathing life into him.

It takes a moment for Shiro’s brain to catch up with what’s going on and kiss Keith back. He buries his hands in Keith’s stupidly long hair, holding him there against himself, finally tasting Keith.

It’s perfect — years of thinking and dreaming and imagining it and it’s _perfect._

It’s everything Shiro ever hoped for. Keith’s lips are soft against his, tasting slightly of the sweet tea he’s always drinking nowadays, his sharp teeth nipping Shiro’s lip in a way that makes Shiro gasp.

Shiro pulls Keith closer, impossibly close, devouring the taste and feel of Keith against him.

Keith’s breath hitches, his claws digging into Shiro’s shoulders, his back, the nape of his neck. Shiro sucks Keith’s lower lip, reveling in the way Keith moans and melts in his arms.

Keith lets out an alarmed noise, tensing and tearing himself away from Shiro’s arms, turning his back on him as he puts distance between them. Shiro gasps, shocked at the sudden loss of contact and terrified he’s done something wrong. Keith keeps his back to Shiro as he runs his hands through his hair, sending it in even more disarray than it already is in.

Shiro swallows. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to — “

“Don’t.”

Shiro shuts his mouth. He wants to go to Keith, to hold him in his arms and comfort him, but he stays still, giving Keith the space he needs.

“Keith — “

“No you’re“ — Keith laughs and shakes his head, still not turning to face Shiro — “you’re amazing. That, um, that was amazing. It’s not that. It’s... it’s a me problem, it’s got nothing to do with you.”

Shiro frowns, taking a small step towards Keith. “Tell me what’s wrong. Please.”

Keith shakes his head. “I don’t want to ruin this.”

“You won’t,” Shiro assures him. “There’s nothing you can do or say to ruin anything between us.”

Keith turns, his eyes so sad it makes Shiro’s heart clench. “I — ” Keith takes a shaky breath. “I want this, I do. I’ve wanted this for years...”

“But?”

Keith looks away, his ears drooping. “I can’t. It’s... I feel like I’m cheating on him — Zarkon. I can’t do this right now.”

_Zarkon._

Of course. Zarkon keeps poisoning everything, even when he’s not there.

“I know I said we could do this but... I want to but... I just — I need to think.” Keith heads to the door, stopping for a second, as if he’s expecting Shiro to stop him. But Shiro can’t get the words out, and Keith walks out of the door.

Shiro stares after him, feeling cold and hurt and angry. Angry at himself; at Zarkon; at the war and even at Keith, just a little.

Shiro groans, his joy at the prospect of a shower gone, his previously good mood ruined. He decides to blame it all on Zarkon and not himself (and definitely not Keith), because Zarkon is the one who messed with Keith's head; he’s the one who has such a strong grip on Keith, and Shiro needs to blame someone, just for a little while.

He’ll be an adult about it later, when the hurt in his heart isn’t quite so fresh.

 

* * *

 

Keith makes an art form out of dodging Shiro, which is not quite as easy on board the Castleship as it would have been on a larger Galran ship. But Keith manages rather well, and he doesn’t see Shiro for over a week, though he suspects it’s because Shiro is avoiding him as well. Whether or not that’s the case, Keith doesn’t complain about the distance they’re keeping.

When Tral arrives on the Castleship, Keith strong arms him into cutting Keith’s hair. Tral threatens to shave him bald, but he ends up just trimming Keith’s hair so that when Keith pulls his hair to a ponytail or braids it, his hair hangs where Keith wants it; between his shoulder blades like it did while Keith was with the Empire.

Kiira continues to build walls in Keith’s mind on daily basis, since she’s not able to build ones that could hold for very long. Keith doesn’t mind; as long as he’s not in pain he can handle Kiira poking around his head daily.

In his attempts to avoid Shiro, Keith discovers several hiding places in the Castleship, away from cameras, some of them even big enough to possibly spend longer periods of time if needed. Keith also gets to know the ventilation systems and crawl spaces rather well when he injects himself into Hunk’s attempts to fix a minor air venting issue to keep away from Shiro.

The kiss... Keith had liked it — loved it, in fact. It had been everything he’d imagined for years and more, and yet... Keith couldn’t stop himself from feeling sick and disgusted with himself for kissing Shiro. It had been like heaven until he’d thought of Zarkon, just for a second, and then he’d hated himself.

He’d wanted it for so long to kiss Shiro, and he’d thought that with the Galran inclination for polyamory he could justify having both Zarkon and Shiro. He loves them both — differently, yes, but he still loves them. He doesn’t _want_ to choose between them, and he shouldn’t have to. He’s Galra, he should be able to follow the Galran customs.

So why is _he_ the one freaking out and feeling like what he and Shiro did was wrong?

It makes no sense, and as Keith pushes himself off the bed, his hair a mess and his clothes scattered across the floor, he decides to ponder on the matter in the future, maybe in a hundred or so years. Longer if anything urgent — like a missing sock — comes up.

It’s been whole nearly two weeks now since he last spoke to Shiro, and eight days since Keith’s seen him. Keith is sneaking towards the kitchen, trying to figure out how to extend his Shiro avoiding streak to nine days when the ship tilts violently to the left, sending Keith crashing into a wall.

“What the hell?”

Keith groans and crouches in the crook where the wall becomes floor just in case the ship does anything unexpected again. The ship is still tilted, and Keith can’t figure out why it won’t straighten up, let alone why the ship tilted in the first place. Keith wishes he’d still have his communication device like the others have, but he hadn’t wanted anyone to track him since he came on board so he’d stashed the comm device in the back of his closet.

Keith stands, cautious and on alert, ready to react to any other sudden moves the ship might make, and heads towards the bridge. The ship shudders and Keith steadies himself against the wall.

The ship is over ten thousand years old and it’s spent most of that time completely shut down on an alien planet, perhaps it broke in some way. The thought sends chills down Keith’s spine, and he moves a little faster. He reaches the bridge minutes later, the ship still shuddering around him, but slowly starting to right itself again.

Maybe it’s just one of Hunk and Pidge’s experiments gone wrong.

Of course the first person Keith sees is Shiro, and the look on his face is all Keith needs to see to know that this isn’t an experiment gone wrong.

“We’re under attack,” Allura offers Keith as an explanation before he can ask what’s going on. “Stay on the bridge, but out of the way. We might need your help.”

“Okay.” Keith presses himself against a wall, trying to make himself as small as possible.

Coran hurries past him towards the doors. “I’ll get Gailek to help with the stabilizers,” he says over his shoulder.

“Let me know if you need me,” Hunk calls after him, his eyes fixed on the screen displaying the tactical situation; red dots for the enemy ships, blue for the Castleship.

“How are the shields?” Shiro asks, not sparing Keith even a glance.

“Holding. For now,” Pidge replies.

Shiro nods. “Lance?”

“They’re moving too fast for me to get a decent shot.”

Keith wants to tell Lance to move out of his way, to let him try, but he knows that out of the two of them Lance is the better shot, and if he can’t hit the target, Keith won’t be able to hit them either.

The ship shudders, and Keith drags his attention from his friends to the screen displaying their situation. Two ships are circling them, flickering in and out of the sensors.

“Are they close?” Keith asks, drawing Shiro’s attention to him. Ignoring his goal to avoid Shiro at all costs, Keith nods at the screen. “They keep disappearing.”

“They’re close, but they can hide themselves from the sensors. They’re visible when they’re firing at us and... whatever they’re doing now.”

“Teasing,” Keith suggests.

No one replies to him.

Keith bites his lip. He wants to do something, anything, but he doesn’t want to get in the way. The others have worked together far longer without him than they ever did with him, and he has no place in this new dynamic of theirs. So he watches the others call orders and instructions, ask and answer questions and seamlessly work together against the enemy attacking them.

Keith has no place among them anymore. He doesn’t belong there.

Before Keith can say anything else, Kiira appears by his side out of thin air. She garners a few looks, but the others are too busy trying to fight off the enemy to care about Kiira’s presence.

“Did you just teleport here?” Keith asks quietly, bracing himself against the wall when the ship tilts again.

“Yes. I felt them and I — I wished to see them.” Kiira takes a step forward, then stops, hesitating. “Can they get in here?”

Keith takes her arm, offering comfort. “I don’t know.”

“Our weapons did nothing to them, but our magic damaged their shields,” Kiira says, more loudly this time, addressing the bridge as a whole.

Allura spares her a look. “Can we generate enough magic to take them on?”

“I do not know, but if your weapons are not enough and your shields are failing, it’s the best thing we can try.” Kiira nods at Keith and touches his hand on her arm. Keith lets go, and Kiira joins Allura’s side, talking quietly to her as the ship shakes, the alarms going off when the shields weaken.

Keith covers his ears. The alarm is too loud, but he doesn’t dare to bother the others and ask them to turn it off. He breathes a sigh of relief when the alarm quiets down after a moment, and smiles at Pidge in thanks when she glances over her shoulder at Keith. Pidge nods in acknowledgment before returning her attention to their enemy.

Kiira joins Keith’s side. “Allura and I will require your assistance if we must attempt to strike at — “

Keith slams into Kiira when the ship shakes, the structures around them screeching in a way that can’t be good. The pressure around Keith seems to crush his insides. He’d scream if he could open his mouth.

The ship turns dark, and the pressure disappears as fast as it appeared. The gravity lightens to the point Keith feels like he’s floating, even if his feet are on the floor.

A low emergency light flickers on a few seconds later.

“Is everyone alright?” Shiro asks, his voice strained. He gets agreeing groans and murmurs; even Kiira and Keith join them. Keith’s body feels sluggish, his thoughts just a bit too slow, but he manages to right himself up.

“What happened?” Hunk asks. “Are we still being attacked?”

Allura pulls herself up and taps at her controls, but nothing happens. They all fall silent, listening to sounds around them, but they hear nothing.

“They got what they wanted,” Kiira says grimly. “Your ship is out of power. I am curious, though. Perhaps they will board the vessel and we will learn why so many of the ships we have found did not have a crew.”

Hunk and Pidge throw Kiira dirty looks, but Shiro crosses his arms and gives Kiira a somewhat interested look. “So many? Not all?”

Kiira tilts her head. “Most, yes, but on a few occasions we found signs of resistance on the ships, and the crew dead.”

“Then,” Hunk starts,” wouldn’t it make more sense for them to come and kill us too? We did just offer a lot of resistance.”

The others exchange worried looks, and Kiira leans closer to Keith. Not knowing what else to do, Keith hooks his arm with Kiira’s. He understands her fear; she’d barely survived her last encounter with this enemy, and now she might have to to try to survive them again.

“Could someone check on Gailek?” Keith asks, worried of how he’s faring under these circumstances.

“I need to talk to Coran, I might as well check on him at the same time,” Hunk says as he stands, skipping across the floor to the doors in the low gravity. Allura has to help Hunk pry the doors open, and she decides to go with him in case there are more obstructions in the way. Soon they are on their way to where Coran and Gailek were trying to fix the stabilizers.

Keith looks after them, worried and unsure of what he can do to help — if he can do anything at all.

“Keith,” Shiro says, addressing him in the same tone he uses when he’s acting as the Leader of Voltron. “I need you to go and get the bayard form my room, and keep guard. Search the ship for intruders if you have to. We can’t have anyone coming in here while we’re sitting ducks. Kiira, take Allura’s place on the bridge for now.”

“What?” Lance turns to gape at Shiro. “She’s a _druid_.”

“We need all hands on deck right now,” Shiro replies, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Keith hurries away from the bridge, not waiting to hear what else Shiro has to say. The elevators are out of use, but with a few creative solutions that involve the maintenance shafts and wiggling through tight spaces, Keith reaches Shiro’s room in record time. Getting the door open takes more time, but he manages.

Shiro’s room is dark, with no emergency lights illuminating the space. Keith isn’t surprised — the emergency lights aren’t useful in private rooms in that moment — but it does make finding the bayard more taxing.

Keith grits his teeth  as he fumbles in the dark, and does his best to ignore the dread gripping his insides, filling him with a need to run. He can’t lose it now, no matter how much he hates the dark. He just has to last a few more minutes.

Once Keith has the bayard, he bolts out of the dark room and into the corridor that’s blessedly illuminated by the few emergency lights still flickering on and off, even though they must be running out of power as well. Keith heads down the corridor, keeping his ears perked for any sounds that should not be there.

He hears nothing, but he feels like someone’s there, just out of his sight. He chalks it up to paranoia brought on by the attack and the dark.

Their attackers don’t enter the Castleship, and they don’t attack the Castleship again either. Coran and Hunk — with the help of Gailek, and when they’re all sure they’re not under attack anymore Pidge and Kiira as well — manage to restore partial power to the ship.

Allura checks on the Lions she tells everyone they seem to be somewhat affected by what happened as well, and that they’ll need a day or two to recuperate, they all share a concerned look. They’re still dead in space and though they’re safe now, who knows how long that will last. They could use the Lions as back up.

After a long day of restoring as much power as they can, Shiro calls everyone onboard to the kitchen. They’re all hungry and exhausted and in need of showers, at least in Keith’s opinion. Going by Gailek’s slightly scrunched up nose he agrees with Keith’s assessment.

“I know we’re all tired,” Shiro starts, “but we could all use some food and a moment to rest.”

Keith sits between Gailek and Kiira, none of them engaging in the tired conversation the others are trying to keep up. Gailek pushes a slice of bread around his plate while Kiira picks at a bowl of berries, occasionally slipping one or two under her mask. Keith finishes a cup of tea in silence, then gets up to refill the cup.

Keith is selecting a brew of tea when Shiro clears his throat behind his back. Keith flinches, his ears flattening, but he turns around, not meeting Shiro’s eyes.

Shiro steps closer to him. “I know you’ve been avoiding me, but I just wanted you to know that as far as I’m concerned we’re good,” he says quietly.

Keith’s ears relax minutely. “I thought you’d be mad.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I’m not.”

Keith nods and meets Shiro’s eyes briefly, still unsure of how to feel. “Can we talk about this some other time? This day’s been exhausting and I can’t deal with this right now. Just let me get some sleep first, okay?”

“Sure.” Shiro offers Keith a smile and reaches past him to blindly grab a pack of tea from the shelf. He grimaces at the pack, but heads to the table with it anyway.

“I thought you don’t like that one,” Lance says when Shiro sits back down, and Keith huffs a quiet laugh.

Keith selects his own tea, but unlike Shiro he brews his cup on the counter, away form the others; he needs a moment to think.

He’s happy Shiro feels they’re fine, but Keith isn’t so sure about it. He sighs, willing his attention to return to his tea and the shower he’ll get after he’s finished the tea, and the bed he can fall in to once he’s had the shower. The thought makes Keith relax and smile a little, and he picks the saucer holding the last one of the fudge covered cookies Hunk had made the day before.

Keith gets three stops towards the table before a searing pain shoots through his head, like claws digging into his mind, tearing at his consciousness. The soft conversation grows distant as time slows down and Keith loses his ability to breathe.

The cup and the saucer along with the cookie fall to the ground, shattering at Keith’s feet, splashing his boots with hot tea.

Keith is distantly aware of the silence that has fallen into the room, but the inhuman screaming in his head and the claws tearing at his mind make up for the noise. Someone calls his name, but Keith can’t reply through the bile in his throat.

Instead, he turns around and stumbles out of the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The BoM being the original Imperial Guard is a weird little hc I've had sine BoM was introduced, and I have no idea where it came from but I'm keeping it here because why not.
> 
> Next chapter comes sometime next week, don't know when yet. I have a blog to move and adulting to to.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	20. Chapter 20

Keith runs to the nearest bathroom, clutching his head and praying he doesn’t faint or die on his way there.

This can’t be happening. Not now. He’s supposed to get back to the Empire soon and Haggar is supposed to fix everything.

Shiro calls after him, but Keith ignores him.

He reaches the bathroom, stumbles in, locks the door behind him, and rushes to the toilet and throws up the tea and cookies he’d just had. He barely registers the banging on the door and Shiro’s demands for him to be let in as he gags and heaves up his dinner as well.

His mind is burning and his vision is clouded by bright spots dancing around, and he can’t get up.

Someone drags Keith away from the toilet and for a moment he thinks Shiro broke the door down, but then Kiira crouches down in front of him and pushes her mask off her face. She cups Keith’s face and her mouth moves, but Keith can’t make out any words.

He’s going to die. The pain is going to kill him.

Kiira stands and steps around Keith, and Keith buries his face in his hands, sobbing and nearly screaming because of the pain. Soon Kiira is there again, this time with a glass of water. She forces Keith to drink a mouthful, and at least the taste of stomach acid in his mouth and throat lessens, if nothing else.

“You need to tell me what’s wrong,” she says, but Keith can’t do more than wave at his head. Kiira frowns. “Your head?”

Keith nods, but the movement causes the pain to flare up again. He wills his mind away from it, from the pain and from the situation, but it’s like claws are digging into his mind, tearing at him as if it’s a matter of life and death, and the more Keith tries to get away from it the worse it gets.

Kiira forces Keith to look up, and through the tears misting his vision Keith sees the determined set of her jaw and shoulders. “I am going to look into your mind to see what’s going on. Do not fight me.”

Keith offers her a pitiful sob as a reply. Kiira rolls her sleeves up and presses her fingers against Keith’s damp skin, and closes her eyes. Her mind barely has a chance to brush against Keith’s before she tears herself away from Keith and the rage and possessiveness that isn’t Keith’s flaring through his mind.

Keith gasps. He knows that possessiveness, he’s relished in it too much not to know it by heart by now.

_ Zarkon. _

The pain becomes meaningless as Keith turns his attention from  _ away  _ to what’s  _ behind  _ the pain, to the desperation and fear and  _ too far away lost where so far come back come back _

_ Ickya _

_ Keith _

Keith sobs and pushes past the pain clouding his mind, fighting against it as he rushes to Zarkon and the tattered remains of their bond. He closes his eyes and imagines.

He imagines the bond, imagines Zarkon reaching for him, and himself reaching right back, extending his consciousness as far as it will go and beyond to reach Zarkon again.

Their minds touch, and warmth fills Keith’s thoughts, chasing away the pain with  _ mine  _ and _ safe  _ and  _ never going to leave you _ .

Keith doesn’t know if he’s laughing or crying. Maybe he’s doing both.

Zarkon is there, in his mind, warm and comforting like he always is, allowing Keith to feel the affection he has for Keith and the desperate need to get Keith back to his side, where Keith belongs.

Kiira says something, her voice muffled by the sense of  _ Zarkon _ filling Keith’s mind. She tries to stand, but Keith grips her wrists and stops her.

Kiira flinches, like she’s expecting pain, but Keith merely grins at her, tears streaming down his face as he shakes with silent laughter, his hair stuck to the sweat and snot and vomit still clinging to his face.

Kiira stares at Keith with concerned eyes, and Keith just grins wider. Slowly, he becomes aware of the banging on the door, of Shiro’s voice demanding to know what’s going on. Kiira tries to stand again, but Keith yanks her back down and points at his head.

She frowns, not understanding Keith’s meaning, and Keith lends closer to her, as if they’re co-conspirators, and whispers as quietly as he can; “Zarkon.”

It takes a moment, but Kiira’s eyes widen almost comically and she slumps back down on the ground, staring at Keith, a smile slowly spreading on her face. Keith’s face hurts from the too wide grin, but he can’t help his excitement.

It’s  _ Zarkon _ , how is Keith not supposed to be excited?

Finally, Kiira stands and wets a towel, then kneels back down at Keith’s side, wiping his face clean. “What does he say?”

Keith shakes his head. “It’s not a verbal conversation. It’s — I can feel him, but... I don’t know. The bond is weaker than it was before. I only have a sense of him.”

It sours Keith’s mood just a bit, but he focuses on what’s important: Zarkon, reaching out to him through the bond. He seems... tired. Exhausted, in a way, even unsure of what has happened — confused. And he’s hurting, even if he doesn’t want Keith to know it.

Keith takes a deep, calming breath, sits more comfortably, and closes his eyes. He focuses inward, stumbling through trying to communicate through the bond — they’ve never done this across such distances, and the bond isn’t as strong as it used to be, but eventually he manages to assure Zarkon that he’s safe and fine, even if he misses Zarkon terribly.

Though they can’t exchange ideas and thoughts like they did before, one thought rings clear and loud in Keith’s mind.

_ Come back. _

Keith wants to. He wants to go back to Zarkon more than anything, he wants to go back to his friends and the Empire where things are easier. Keith pushes that desire towards Zarkon, willing him to know that Keith never left him willingly, and that if Zarkon tells him where he is Keith will find a way back to him.

But of course Zarkon can’t tell Keith where he is.

The banging on the door drags Keith from his thoughts — from Zarkon — and he curses, anger that’s not his flaring in his mind.

“We should get you to your room,” Kiira says. “Leave the excuses to me.”

Keith frowns, not understanding what she means until he thinks back to how he ended up in the bathroom. Keith groans, his ears drooping. The others must think something is wrong. “Yeah, that’s probably a good idea.”

Kiira puts her mask back on and helps Keith up, and guides him to the door. “Ready?”

Keith inclines his head, biting his lip. He keeps up a constant stream of warm assurances to Zarkon as Kiira opens the door and steps into the hallway ahead of him.

“He is fine,” Kiira tells Shiro when he tries to push past her. “I have examined him and determined the cause of his pain; psychosomatic symptoms from the stress and trauma you have caused him.”

“ _ We _ have caused him?” Pidge’s disbelieving voice carries from somewhere behind Hunk.

“You stole him from the Empire, attacked the ship he was on and destroyed it from around him, injuring his friends and the Emperor, and you have forced him to remain here against his will under highly stressful situations, in company that is less than friendly more often than not. I would say that is enough to cause anyone stress and trauma.” Kiira tilts her head, challenging Pidge to argue with her.

She doesn’t, and neither does anyone else. Keith inches past Kiira, his steps unsure but he doesn’t care; his attention is on Zarkon wrapping himself around Keith’s mind like a comforting blanket.

A hand encloses around Keith’s arm and Zarkon’s rage at him being touched by someone else engulfs Keith. He swipes at Lance, his claws digging into his face.

Lance yells in pain and falls on the floor in his hurry to get away from Keith, raising his hand to cover his right cheek.

Keith shakes from the rage clouding his mind, and he wants to kill everyone around him; these people who had the gall to steal Keith from Zarkon —

“ _ Keith! _ ” Shiro’s voice snaps Keith out of the rage, and when he looks at Lance again he’s horrified to see the blood seeping between his fingers.

Lance pants, his eyes angry and scared when they meet Keith’s. “What is wrong with you?”

“I —“

_ “ _ You looked like you were gonna fall, I was just trying to help you!” Lance turns away, blinking rapidly.

“I’m sorry,” Keith says, his voice too weak and quiet to be heard over the others hurrying to Lance’s aid. Even Shiro joins Lance’s side, throwing Keith a look over his shoulder, his expression that specific mix of concern, anger and disappointment that always makes Keith hate himself for putting that look on Shiro’s face.

Kiira tugs at Keith’s sleeve. “Let’s go.”

The only person who follows them — or even spares them a second glance — is Gailek.

 

* * *

 

To Shiro’s relief, Kiira orders Keith to be left alone in his room to rest, and that he shouldn’t be bothered while the others try to fix the Castleship. It saves Shiro the trouble of telling Keith to stay in his room because of what he’d done to Lance.

It still shocks Shiro; the rage in Keith’s eyes had seemed... alien, in a way. Kiira had explained it away as Keith finally dealing with being kidnapped — Shiro had bit back the urge to correct her on that one — and he’d reacted to the trauma, not Lance, violently. Keith had not been fully in the moment, and as such his reactions should not be taken personally.

In a way it makes sense, but Shiro can’t shake the nagging feeling that there’s something Kiira’s not telling him. If Shiro had the time, he’d interrogate Kiira until she tells him the truth, but as it is, he has a ship to fix and he can’t afford to waste time on her.

 

* * *

 

Being called into the Wastelands is unusual enough, but getting the summons through highly encrypted subspace frequencies is practically unheard of. The only reason Thace plots a course there is that the summons are signed by the High Priestess. No one has heard from her in months, and Thace is curious to see why she’s requesting his presence.

Thace has never been to the Wastelands himself, but he’s read about them; he’s studied images and recordings of the place, so he knows to expect the starless space and the lonely asteroids drifting by, like remnants of a battle fought thousands of years ago. It’s an ancient star system, destroyed so long ago no one knows what was there originally — except perhaps the Emperor, but he is not willing to share his knowledge — and everything there is dead; the stars, the lonely planets. Everything.

Only wraiths remain.

Thace doesn’t understand what madness drove the High Priestess there.

Going to the Wastelands has the added benefit of lessening Haala’s sour mood and his unusually biting remarks that he’s been throwing at Thace ever since Lotor ordered him to discipline Marzila for disregarding direct orders. Thace had assured Lotor that Marzila would face severe punishment for attacking Zykov’s forces, and then he’d turned around and told Marzila that she’d be in cleaning plasma conduits and she’d have to spend her free time in her quarters for now. And that’s when Haala got angry: Thace had ordered Marzila into a separate room.

It doesn’t matter how much Thace tries to tell Haala that the punishment Lotor expected him to carry out would have been far more severe, and that the separation is not permanent by any means, it doesn’t matter to Haala; Thace had taken Marzila away from him, and he was going to make his displeasure known.

“We are approaching the coordinates,” Bax informs Thace. “The sensors are picking up something, but I can’t tell what it is.”

“A druid ship?” A chill runs down Thace’s spine even as he suggests it. His crew gives him uneasy and doubtful looks in return.

Most Galra are aware that the druids are... different, Thace supposes is the right term — they’re not like the Galra around them. Many believe they aren’t even Galra at all, if their ability to utilize the quintessence is anything to go by.

Thace agrees that they can’t be Galra — at least not fully — but in all his time pondering the existence of the druids he hasn’t been able to figure out why the Emperor would allow non-Galran people in such high positions. The High Priestess is practically the second in command of the Empire, and if she has no Galran blood that would go against everything Zarkon has been preaching for centuries with his us versus them ideology.

Another thing that offers the officers of the military something to gossip about are the druid ships. There has been some doubt that they even exist, as few Galra have seen the ships, and most of the gossip going around about the ships is nothing more than rumors and speculation. Someone knows someone who has a commanding officer who once told them about docking with a druid ship and such.

If they have indeed been invited by the High Priestess to board her ship — and it’s not a Galran ship, that’s for sure — Thace and his crew might get to see if the rumors are in fact true.

“I don’t see it,” Morva says.

“It’s there,” Thace assures him. “Just keep your eyes open and monitor the scanners.”

The crew does as they are told.

Long dobashes pass as they try to find the ship they were summoned to, but eventually Bax spots the distortion in the space before them, like ripples of glass.

“What do the scanners say?” Thace asks, considering his options.

“They can’t make out what it is,” Morva replies.

They don’t have to; the ripples dissipate in a matter of ticks, revealing a ship that’s approximately the size of a standard battle cruiser, but it doesn’t look right. It’s darker, for starters, and the shape of it reminiscent of Lotor’s ship, not the typical Galran ships.

“Commander?” Morva glances at Thace over his shoulder.

“Request permission to dock,” Thace replies, wishing he sounded a bit more sure of himself.

Morva does as he’s told and sends the request to the ship. They get permission, and soon Thace is at the airlock, with Haala, Marzila and Bax by his side. The others will stay behind to keep the ship running.

Thace holds his breath as he steps through the airlock to the other ship. The air there is colder, the lights shining the dark walls and floors of corridors with cold light. They are greeted by five druids, none of them saying a word as they show Thace the way. They lead Thace and his company down the too quiet hallways, down to another level and into a small conference room.

“Your crew may stay here,” one of the druids says.

Thace inclines his head and instructs his crewmembers to do as the druids say. They don’t look comfortable, but it doesn’t surprise Thace; nobody is comfortable with druids telling them what to do.

The druids lead Thace three levels down to a laboratory that must run across the entire length of the ship. The druids know their way through the tables and workstations, and the containers of all shapes and sizes, and Thace can do little but trail after them and try to take it all in.

The druids show Thace to a secluded room with a table for six and screens covering one wall. Haggar’s presence there isn’t surprising, but seeing Zarkon sitting at the table nearly makes Thace trip over his own feet.

The druids lock the door behind them, trapping Thace in. It takes effort, but Thace doesn’t flinch.

Unsure of what he should do, Thace approaches the table. He hates talking to Zarkon almost as much as he hates talking to Haggar; Zarkon is impossible to read and his reactions are unpredictable even on his best days, and Thace always feels like he knows Thace is a Blade agent, but at least he doesn’t fear Zarkon is reading his mind like he does when Haggar is around.

Like he does now.

Thace debates over what to say as he reaches the table. Should he say he’s glad to see Zarkon back on his feet? He can’t say Zarkon looks well; he looks too gaunt and withered for that to be a viable thing to say. Should he ask what he can do for the Emperor?

“Don’t sit down,” Haggar says far too calmly.

Thace freezes, his hand hovering in the air above the back of a chair. He snatches his hand back and swallows. “May I ask why I have been summoned?” His eyes flicker to Zarkon — even his breathing sounds strained this close, almost raspy — before landing on Haggar.

“You are here,” Zarkon says before Haggar can do more than draw in a breath, his voice carrying an edge Thace can’t name, “because you stole something from me.”

Thace would argue if he wasn’t frozen in place.

Haggar frowns at Zarkon before turning to Thace. “It has come to our attention that you are a member of the Blade of Marmora” — she tilts her head minutely — “do you deny it?”

Thace would if he could speak. _ How do they know? _

“Your crew will be interrogated along with you, and all who are found guilty of treason will be punished accordingly,” Haggar continues.

Zarkon waves her off. “I want to talk about Keith.”

Thace’s ears flatten against his will. He’s panicking and he can’t control himself; he’d brought his crew there without thinking what might happen, and now Haala —

“You stole Keith from me, and you handed him over to Voltron.” Zarkon frowns at Thace like he’s expecting a reply, but what could Thace possibly say to that?

“I — “ Thace clears his throat. “I don’t know what — “

“Do not lie to me.” Zarkon’s tone alone is enough to shut Thace up; the force of it, even with the strange edge, is impossible for Thace to not obey. “ _ You _ are the reason Keith is not here.”

Thace looks down, unable to deny the accusation. He doesn’t understand how Zarkon could have found out about him being a Blade, especially when he’s supposed to be dying and not walking around.

Does Zarkon know about the others?

Thace needs to think fast. He needs to come up with an excuse for what he’s done or try to convince Zarkon he’s been lied to — that would be borderline impossible, so not worth the try, he’s better off coming up with excuses. It’s a miracle Thace is there talking to Zarkon and not being tortured by the druids, and he has to take advantage of that.

So Thace takes a deep breath and forces his heartbeat to slow down. “I assure you, I would never do anything to harm Keith.”

Zarkon stands, leaning on the table a little too heavily to be natural. “You took him from his home and from the people who care about him, and you dare claim you would not harm him?”

“Sire,” Haggar warns, but Zarkon ignores her in favor of approaching Thace.

“You stole Keith from me.”

Thace is half tempted to point out you can’t steal a person, but he’s not suicidal.

Haggar hurries to Zarkon’s side. “Zarkon.”

“Give us a moment,” Zarkon tells her without taking his eyes off Thace.

“But — “

“ _ Now. _ ”

Haggar doesn’t want to leave Zarkon alone with Thace, that much is obvious, but she doesn’t argue with Zarkon either. She does strip Thace off all of his weapons and communication devices before leaving the room, and Zarkon doesn’t tell her off for it.

Once she’s out of the room, Thace takes a small step back and lowers his ears as Zarkon glares at him.

“I should end your life for what you have done,” Zarkon says, and Thace considers throwing his dignity out of the airlock and groveling.

“Sire, I — “

“You are lucky Haggar wishes to interrogate you,” Zarkon continues, ignoring the way Thace flinches. “I trusted you to care for Keith, and you took him away. Do you know what happened to the last person who took something of mine? Who broke my trust?”

Zarkon staggers, gripping the edge of the table, his breathing ragged in a way that can’t be normal.

Thace could run. He could kill Zarkon — or try to, at least. He could run to the computers and send a subspace message to all of the Blade agents warning them before Haggar murders him or worse.

But he doesn’t. No matter how much he hates it at that moment, his best chance of protecting himself and his crew — protecting Haala — is not by doing anything to anger Zarkon further. So, ignoring how little he wants to do it, Thace helps Zarkon to a chair and kneels at his feet, asking the ancient gods to forgive him for what he’s about to do.

“I assure you, my loyalty is not to the Blade of Marmora, it is to Keith. I swore my life and my spirit — my existence — to him. Do you think Keith would allow me to harm you or the Empire? Even if I wished to do so?”

“You are a state traitor, and you took Keith away. Do you think I care what you would or would not do?” Zarkon counters.

Thace swallows, then takes Zarkon’s hand in his, shocked by the coldness of his skin for a tick. “Then do as you see fit with me, but please, show mercy to my crew. They have done nothing wrong and they don’t deserve any harm to befall them.”

Zarkon studies Thace, his gaze not giving anything away.

Thace lowers his ears and shrinks into himself, hoping that it will help. “Please, sire, show them kindness, if not because they deserve it, then for Keith. Two of my crew are his friends.”

Zarkon’s expression hardens minutely, and Thace fears he’s gone too far. He feels sick, grovelling at Zarkon’s feet, but if it will protect Haala and the others he doesn’t care. His dignity doesn’t matter, Kolivan’s inevitable disappointment in him doesn’t matter; all that matters is Haala and his crew getting out of this mess safely.

Before Zarkon replies and Thace can figure out what to say next, Haggar returns with two druids in tow. “We are ready to start.”

Thace looks from her to Zarkon, knowing his desperation and fear shows in his expression but unable to stop it. Zarkon inclines his head, and the druids grab Thace and drag him away before he can say or do anything else.

He can only pray Keith is right about Zarkon, and that he won’t hurt Haala and the others.

 

* * *

 

By day three into Keith’s ‘recuperation’, Shiro is ready to call it quits, no matter what everyone else says. It’s not right of them to isolate Keith just because he lashed out when he was hurt and upset.

He’s contemplating on the best way to tell as much to the others, and on the best time to do it while they’re fixing the Castleship — they’ve fixed most of the damage they’d sustained from the attack, but they’re still missing their ability to create wormholes, and they experience daily glitches in most of the ship’s systems — when Coran calls him to the bridge, his voice unusually hard.

Shiro is tense as he makes his way to the bridge, unsure of what to expect. Haggar on the screen, her cold eyes scrutinizing Allura and Coran was definitely on the bottom of his list. Her attention flickers to Shiro when he enters, and for a second Shiro is unable to move, the memories of the horrors Haggar has put him through crashing through his mind.

Shiro shoves the panic bubbling in his chest down and steps forward.

The other Paladins burst through the doors when Shiro reaches Allura’s side. Under normal circumstances Shiro might make an offhand comment about them taking too long, but right now he has more important things to concern himself with.

Shiro crosses his arms and stands straighter, refusing to let Haggar see the growing dread inside him. “What do you want?”

“ _ The Emperor _ wants you to return Keith to us.” The words and the way Haggar says them — like she doesn’t agree with it — makes Shiro glance at Allura. He sees his own concerns mirrored in Allura’s eyes; has Zarkon returned or is Haggar just playing a game with them?

“No,” Shiro states. “He’s staying here, with his own people.”

“That is not acceptable,” Haggar says.

Shiro frowns. “What makes you think Keith  _ wants  _ to come back to you?”

Haggar smiles, like she’s just trapped Shiro. “Why don’t we ask him what he wants?”

Shiro looks at the others, wanting them to step in and say something, but not daring to ask for it.

“Your ship is badly damaged, and we know where you are,” Haggar continues. “I could order fleets to come and collect Keith and Voltron, and unless you let me see him right now, I will do just that. I will also be using the other prisoner captured with you as well as the... ‘Rebellion’ prisoners we have in our custody in my next experiment, and I can assure you the chances of them dying slowly and painfully are high.”

Pidge lets out an alarmed noise, but she keeps her cool and doesn’t say anything.

Shiro knows they’ll loose any chance to keep Keith with them if he even suspects Haggar has demanded his return, but they are in no position to fend off an attack either, and none of them are willing to put Sam and the Rebel agents at risk. Calling Keith to the bridge should be an easy decision and yet he can’t make it; he can’t just let Keith go.

Allura takes the decision from Shiro, calling Keith over the comms and ordering him to the bridge. Haggar looks way too pleased with the situation.

They wait in loaded silence for Keith, who arrives a few minutes later, tying a ribbon at the end of his haphazardly done braid. Any questions he might have die quickly when his eyes land on Haggar.

To Shiro’s shock, Keith smiles and waves his hand at Haggar. “Am I coming back now?”

“Yes.” Haggar sounds too satisfied at Keith’s enthusiasm. “Or we will kill all the rebel prisoners and the human in our possession.”

Despite Haggar’s words, Keith looks ready to cheer, but when his eyes meet Shiro’s hurt one’s briefly his smile falters. He clears his throat, then turns to Haggar. “Can I talk to Zarkon?”

“He’s busy,” Haggar replies.

Keith frowns.

“It doesn’t matter, you are not harming any of our people, and you are not getting Keith,” Allura states. “He belongs with us.”

“I want to go,” Keith tells her, determined. He turns back to Haggar. “I’m bringing Gailek and Kiira too.”

Haggar inclines her head.

Shiro tries to breathe despite his chest constricting painfully. Keith can’t be leaving. Shiro just got him back. “Keith.”

Keith glances at him, guilt darkening his eyes for a second. He swallows, his ears tilting back, and glances around the bridge, at the worried and despondent looks on everyone’s faces. His shoulders slump slightly, but he returns his attention to Haggar. “I need to talk to Zarkon.”

Shiro squashes the hope that Keith will stay down, knowing it’s not likely to happen.

“That is not possible. He is occupied elsewhere,” Haggar replies.

“So he wants Keith back but it’s not important enough for him to say as much himself?” Lance says, crossing his arms and scowling at Haggar. “I’m shocked by how much he cares.”

Shiro hides a smile behind his hand as Keith glares at Lance.

“Can you pass a message, then?” Keith asks Haggar.

“Of course.”

“Tell him that in return for me — and Kiira and Gailek — they” — Keith waves at Shiro and the others — “want Sam Holt and the rebel prisoners back.”

“You are not getting the prisoners,” Haggar states.

“Then give them just Sam, okay?” Keith insists. “I’ll come back if you give him back to his family.”

Pidge takes in a sharp breath and Shiro knows he’s just lost one person from his corner. Not that he blames Pidge; Keith wants to go back to the Galra, and if it will give Pidge his father back, it’s not an unreasonable trade.

Haggar frowns. “And why would we do that? We can come fetch you ourselves quite easily, considering your current situation.”

Keith sighs. “It’s called a trade, and it’s not a bad one; you’re getting three people in return for one, and everyone goes home happy. And they won’t have a reason to claim you kidnapped me again.” Keith glances at Shiro, his expression unreadable.

Shiro wants to tell him that there’s nothing valuable enough the Galra can give them in return for Keith, and though he wants to save Sam as much as everyone else in the room, he can’t justify trading one prisoner for another. How could he ever even consider handing Keith back to the Galra, knowing what they are like?

Haggar doesn’t quite sigh, but there’s sourness to her expression that wasn’t there before as she looks a little to her left. Shiro suspects she’s sending a message to Zarkon, but he hopes he’s wrong.

“And you’re going to fix Shiro’s arm since Lotor broke it.” Keith stands straighter when Haggar throws him an incredulous look that’s mirrored on the faces of everyone on the bridge. “Shiro’s my friend” — Shiro pretends being called a friend after all the relationship talk and their kiss doesn’t smart just a little — “and I could’ve kicked Lotor’s ass for what he did but I didn’t, so you’re gonna fix it unless Zarkon wants me to come back pissed off at him.”

Haggar turns to her left again, then, after a few second, turns to scowl at Keith. At the soft ping, Haggar glances away from Keith, the line of her mouth tightening. “Alright.”

Shiro’s jaw drops. He’d expected more of a fight.

Even Keith seems surprised at how easily he got his way. “So... how do I get back to you guys? Do I, um, do I meet you somewhere? Are you gonna pick me up? Are we coming to you?”

“We will send a ship to collect you and... your friend. Once the Emperor is satisfied that you are safe and with us, we will turn over the human,” Haggar replies, her attention drifting from Keith to something else.

“I’m coming too,” Pidge says, “and Matt, if he wants to.”

“They’re Sam’s kids,” Keith explains before Haggar can say anything.

Haggar inclines her head. “You will do as you please, it doesn’t matter. I will send you coordinates to a neutral location where you will be picked up in four day’s time. The trade will be made — “

“Once Zarkon’s sure I’m okay, which I assume means when he sees me, because you saying you saw me being fine clearly means nothing to him,” Keith finishes for her.

“Do not get smart,” Haggar warns.

Keith scoffs at her and rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go tell Kiira and Gailek to start packing. Tell Zarkon I said hi and I’ll see you in a few days.”

Keith leaves the bridge before Haggar can reply, but she takes it in a stride. “I would instruct you to not do anything unwise,” she tells Shiro before disconnecting the call. Seconds later they get a message with the coordinates to the place Haggar wants them to take Keith to, along with a time they should be there.

Shiro’s throat clenches and he hurries after Keith, trusting Allura to take care of everything else. “Keith!”

“I know what you’re gonna say and I don’t want to hear it,” Keith calls over his shoulder. “I want to go back to Zarkon, and if we’re gonna — “

“ _ Keith! _ ”

Keith stops and turns to Shiro, clearly expecting a fight. Shiro strides to him and pulls him into a crushing hug, burying his face in Keith’s neck, unable to say the things he wants to say. Keith tenses, but after a second or two he puts his arms around Shiro.

“I can’t lose you,” Shiro whispers against Keith’s neck, not daring to speak up louder.

Keith holds him a little tighter. “You’ll never lose me, but you need to let me go back. And besides, now we can all sit down and talk about our relationship.”

Shiro scrunches his eyes shut and grips Keith’s shirt. He doesn’t want to talk about their relationship with Zarkon; he doesn’t want to share Keith with someone who spent months hurting Keith, who allows his people to cause indescribable pain to the universe and allows Haggar to torture and experiment on innocent prisoners.

Keith nuzzles the side of Shiro’s face, his breath warm on Shiro’s skin. “Let me have this, please.”

Shiro’s eyes burn and his throat is too tight, so he only nods, not knowing what else he can do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **FYI** I'm mostly ditching tumblr so if you wanna see updates/art/anything relating to this fic or my future projects you should follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/saremina__) or if you have [Dreamwidth](http://saremina.dreamwidth.org/) or [Pillowfort](https://www.pillowfort.io/Saremina) you can find me there too. I'm not active on either site yet, but I'm gonna be crossposting most of my stuff between those two. I'm not posting new stuff on tumblr, and I'm probably not gonna be active there at all after I settle on another site. Dunno which one yet, but we'll see.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm salty after season 8 so I edited this in one day to get my mind off of the show and into more happy things. I hope it doesn't show too much.

Matt arrives in the Castleship late the next day, his expression hard and his bags packed.

“You don’t have to come,” Shiro tells him, “Pidge and I can take care of this.”

Matt shakes his head. “No, I have to do this; we got taken at the same time, and no matter how little I want to go back to the Galra, we should all be there together when we free him. And besides, it’s my dad we’re talking about.”

Shiro nods. “Just let me know if things get to be too much, okay?”

“What about you?” Matt drops his bag on the floor and raises a pointed eyebrow. “You’re the one that got thrown into the Arena and experimented on. I’d be more worried about you than me or Pidge.”

Shiro swallows and forces himself to not tense up. “I’ll be fine.”

Matt doesn’t seem to believe Shiro, but he doesn’t push the matter either, much to Shiro’s relief. Shiro picks one of Matt’s bags and walks him to his room — next to Pidge’s, as is the room she’s prepared for Sam — a heavy silence hanging over them all the way there. Shiro leaves Matt at his door with a promise to talk to him later, and heads back the way he’d come.

A part of Shiro wants to go to see how Keith is doing, but lately Keith’s either been lost in thought — daydreaming, really — or excited about his return to the Galra, and neither of those is something Shiro wants to deal with at the moment. And besides, if Keith is lost in a daydream again, he won’t appreciate being snapped out of it.

He never does.

It’s odd; Keith’s never been one to daydream, and he’s definitely not grown upset over getting pulled out of his thoughts before. Coran had suggested it’s because he’s mentally preparing for his return to the Galra — a survival mechanism, perhaps.

Shiro hates the idea, and he hates that it makes sense. Shiro had turned his thoughts inwards during his time with the Galra often enough to know that creating an imaginary world where everything is okay is not a bad coping mechanism for being held captive by the Galra. If Keith’s already starting to slip into a mindset where he needs coping mechanisms, Shiro fears what will happen when they join the Galra.

 

* * *

 

Keith lies on the floor of his room, surrounded by clothes and trinkets he’s acquired over the months, free of the headaches that had plagued him for so long. He’d been selecting his outfit for when he sees Zarkon again, but he’d stopped when Zarkon had nudged his mind, tired in a way he’s not supposed to be.

It had taken a while, but they’ve figured out how to communicate with their bond in the state it is now, and over the great distance. If Keith shuts the rest of the world out and focuses on nothing but Zarkon — almost like meditation, really — it becomes easier for them to communicate.

Over the days, Keith has come to understand that Zarkon is still hurt; his communication with Keith is sporadic at best, brief moments that end with a sense of bone deep exhaustion. A part of Keith wants to end their moments and wait until they can talk face to face, but another part of him, a bigger part, can’t stand the idea of not having Zarkon there in his head, their minds mixing until they become one. Sometimes they share ideas as well as emotions, but that’s tiring even to Keith nowadays so they avoid it as much as they can.

They can talk when they meet; for now they just need to assure each other that they’re still there, and let the bond heal.

 

* * *

 

“Ready?” Allura asks, her expression dark and her voice tense.

Shiro nods, not trusting his voice enough to speak.

Pidge and Matt, despite being uneasy at the prospect of facing the Galra, are excited to get their father back. Shiro can’t fault them for it; he’s excited to get Sam back as well.

“You don’t have to go. We can figure out a way to fix your arm ourselves, and if all else fails, we could always make you a new one,” Allura continues.

It’s a topic they’ve brushed upon a few times since Shiro’s arm was damaged, but Shiro has avoided thinking about it as much as possible. He’s not keen on having his arm taken again — Galran as it may be — but considering the recurring glitches and pain it’s been causing him, it might be the only option. Unless Shiro lets Haggar strap him down and tinker with his arm again, that is.

If it wasn’t for the way Keith had looked at Shiro when Shiro had asked him why he’d asked Haggar to fix the arm, Shiro would have turned the offer down immediately. But Keith had looked so happy at the prospect of helping Shiro that he hadn’t had the heart to say no.

Matt and Pidge are checking their bags for the final time when Allura and Shiro enter the Hangar. They had decided not to bring the Lions anywhere near the Galra, so they’re taking a shuttle, that Hunk had agreed to pilot. As per to the instructions Haggar had sent them, they aren’t allowed to bring their weapons, and it’s putting them all on edge. It had been hard for Shiro to leave his bayard on his table, but he’s not willing to risk anything going wrong, and he trusts Matt and Pidge won’t put their father at risk by breaking Haggar’s rules.

Lance and Allura will stay behind with Coran, ready to interfere with their Lions should they need help, and once they’re done with the trade, they’ll head to Olkarion to fix the Castle of Lions and utilize the resources there to figure out how to combat their new enemy.

The Blade and the Rebellion are also nearby — not close enough to be detected by the Galra, but close enough to arrive on the small planet fast in case they’re needed.

“Good, you’re here,” Pidge puts her laptop back in her bag before giving Shiro her full attention. “Now we’re just waiting for Keith.”

Shiro frowns. “He’s not here?”

Shiro would’ve expected Keith to be the first one in the shuttle, complaining that everyone else is running late. He’d made sure Shiro wouldn’t be wearing his Paladin armor (saying something about Zarkon possibly going ballistic if he saw Shiro in it) just last night, and he’d reminded Shiro more than once that they will be on a tight schedule.

“Haven’t seen him since breakfast,” Matt confirms. “Wasn’t he the one who actually wanted to go?”

“Yeah.” Shiro crosses his arms and shares a thoughtful look with Allura. “Do you think he’s having second thoughts about going back?”

“I would hope so, but I doubt it,” Allura replies.

Shiro sighs. The longer it takes them to get going, the more anxious he grows. Perhaps he should go see what the hold up is.

Before Shiro can decide on what to do, Keith walks through the doors in his heeled boots, his hair pulled back and a bag thrown over his shoulder. Gailek follows him, carrying a second bag, and Kiira trails after them.

“Ready?” Shiro asks, hating the enthusiastic nod Keith gives him in return.

Keith stops and sighs, spreading his arms, while Gailek stays behind him. “Ready. Are you?”

Shiro laughs softly. “No, but I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for this.”

Keith frowns. “You know you don’t have to do this, right? I know I told Haggar to fix your arm, but if you don’t want her to do it you can always just stay here and wait for the others to come back. I’m sure someone will eventually figure out how to fix your arm.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I’m fine. Stop worrying.”

Keith bites his lip and studies Shiro’s face, as if he’s looking for something.

While they stare at each other, Kiira walks past them. “I would like to return home now.”

Keith starts. “Right. Home.”

They file into the shuttle, Keith fiddling with the hem of his dark coat, Matt and Pidge glancing around anxiously, Gailek pressed against Keith’s side and Kiira studying the pad Allura had given her to help her do her work. Shiro joins Hunk in the cockpit, trying not to let dread fill him up.

The trip to the planet isn’t long, but it feels like an eternity. They scan the planet and the space around it, but there’s no sign of the Galra yet. It doesn’t surprise Shiro; they’re almost half an hour early, just like they planned.

Their joy of their accomplishment is short lived, however; they don’t get a chance to even enter orbit before a tractor beam takes hold of their small shuttle and they’re pulled into a Galran ship.

Hunk curses, and though Shiro does everything he can to help them break loose of the beam, they aren’t able to do so. Shiro knows it’s not just because they aren’t the best at piloting an Altean shuttle — Allura’s been teaching them, but neither of them would be comfortable piloting a shuttle in a combat situation just yet — but because the Galran tractor beams are designed to not let anything escape them.

As his last act, Shiro sends a message to the Castleship to wait and see what’s going to happen before attacking.

Their journey ends in a hangar, and Shiro does his best not to let his mind drift to when he’d first met the Galra.

“What now?” Hunk asks.

Shiro sighs and stands. “Now we go say hi to the Galra. Is the hangar safe to enter?”

Hunk checks the environmental scans before turning the power of the shuttle down and locking the controls. “It’s fine; air is pressurized and breathable and the temperature is just a little too high like the Galra like it.”

Shiro smiles and shakes his head, and lets the others know they can exit the shuttle. Unsurprisingly, Keith is the first one off the shuttle, followed closely by Gailek and Kiira. Shiro keeps an eye on their surroundings, expecting betrayal from their Galran captors.

The doors to the hangar open and everyone’s attention snaps to them. To Shiro’s surprise, Lotor walks through the doors, followed by Acxa and Zethrid, if Shiro remembers their names correctly.

“What happened to meeting on the planet?” Shiro snaps.

“This takes less time, and I did not wish to risk you trying something... untoward.” Lotor smiles, but it’s practiced politeness that doesn’t reach his eyes.

Keith hurries to Lotor’s side and Kiira trails after him. Gailek takes a little longer, as he picks up the many bags from the shuttle. Shiro stays by Matt, Pidge and Hunk while Gailek bows at Lotor nervously before Acxa shows him and Kiira out of the hangar. Keith talks with Lotor in quiet tones for a moment before turning to face Shiro and waving him to them.

The others follow Shiro, cautious but doing their best to hide it.

“Zethrid will show you to our recreational room where you may stay until we can arrange a proper space for you,” Lotor says, and Zethrid takes a step forward. “You will not be permitted to walk around without a guard during your stay here.”

Lotor leads the way out of the hangar, with Keith by his side.

“How long will we be traveling?” Hunk asks.

“Approximately seven quarters,” Lotor replies.

“Almost two days,” Keith adds before turning to Lotor. “They’ll need somewhere to sleep and food” — he glances at the others — “and maybe a shower.”

Lotor studies the Paladins and Matt thoughtfully for a moment before inclining his head. “A shower would be a good idea. Food will be served at fixed times, and as I just said, we will arrange a space for them. I don’t want them wandering around my ship. The rest of you have a rooms set up already, and you have freedom to move about most of the ship.”

“You people, this way,” Zethrid orders at the first junction, and though Shiro would love nothing more than to follow Keith and Lotor, but he knows causing trouble is the last thing he should be doing. So he sticks with Hunk, Pidge and Matt, and follows Zethrid through the ship and its distinctively Galran hallways.

Zethrid shows them to a room with a coffee table of sorts surrounded by cushioned seats, a table with five chairs surrounding it, and shelves with books and potted plants.

“Stay here.” Zethrid locks the door behind her.

Shiro lets out a slow breath, trying to regain control of his composure. “Pidge? Does your laptop work here?”

Pidge digs through her bag and pulls her laptop out, and turns it on. “Yeah. Why?”

“I need you to send a message to the Castleship to let them know what’s going on, and that they shouldn’t attack this ship. We could be risking Sam’s life along with ours if we attack Lotor now that Zarkon is back.”

Pidge nods and sends the message to the Castleship, while Matt hovers behind her.

“What now?” Matt asks, his voice quiet.

“Now we wait,” Shiro replies.

 

* * *

 

Lotor shows Keith to a large room with a small table, a sitting area with shelves on the walls, and a large bed in an alcove on a raised platform. The typical Galran tapestries are also there, along with a plush carpet and potted plants, as well as a computer desk in one corner. The door on the far wall must lead to a bathroom.

Keith frowns as he turns to Lotor. “It’s nice.”

Lotor inclines his head, the corners of his lips pulled down. “It is my fathers.”

Keith’s brows shoot up, and some of the hardness in Lotor’s expression dissipates. “It is traditional for family members to have room for each other on board their ships, so just as I have my quarters on the Central Command, I have a room for my father.”

Keith inclines his head and looks around the room, trying to see it through Zarkon’s eyes.

“Zarkon must like it.”

“He has never set foot on this ship.”

“Why not?” Keith asks, turning his attention back to Lotor.

There’s something despondent in Lotor’s expression when he smiles. “We are not exactly on the best of terms, remember?”

Keith doesn’t know how to respond to that, so he stays quiet.

Lotor stands straighter, the personal matter dropped. “My quarters are at the end of the hallway to the left. You may approach me if there is anything you need, though I will likely be spending most of my time on the bridge. I will assign a pad for you — “

“I brought my own.” Keith digs through the bag flung over his shoulder — the smallest one he’d packed and the only one he hadn’t let Gailek take from him — and digs the pad out, and hands it to Lotor.

Lotor walks to the computer and turns it on. After a moment he returns to Keith. “I have downloaded the schematics of the ship for you. It shows the bridge, kitchen, and all other areas that might be of interest to you. Once we have assigned rooms for your friends, those rooms will show on the schematics as well. We will inform you once dinner is ready. In the meantime I would suggest you take the opportunity to rest.”

Keith inclines his head, and Lotor turns to leave.

“Do you have a cook?”

Lotor stops and turns to Keith. “Not at the moment, no.”

“Then let Hunk make the food, he’s really good at it and he’ll be happier if he gets to tinker in the kitchen,” Keith says. “And when you assign the rooms put Matt and Pidge in the same room, they’re siblings so they’ll be most comfortable when they’re together.”

Lotor blinks, surprised. “You are unusual.”

Keith frowns. “What do you mean?”

“You’re assertive and strong willed, and from what I have heard you do not agree

with the Empire’s methods. unlike the people Father usually keeps for company. And you are not even fully Galra.”

Keith’s frown only deepens.

Lotor quirks an eyebrow. “You did not think you are the first person he has taken to his bed?”

“No,” Keith replies, though he’d never put a lot thought into it. But now that Lotor has brought it up, Keith can’t help but wonder about it, and he hates himself just a little for hating the idea of Zarkon with other people.

“Granted, you have lasted longer than most, but I cannot for the life of me figure out why.” Lotor tilts his head, studying Keith with curious eyes. “You are an anomaly.”

“I did tell you we’re telepathically linked, right?” Keith lifts a pointed eyebrow.

Lotor shakes his head. “That does not explain why he would desire your company so much.”

“Why not?”

Lotor takes a deep breath and clasps his hands behind his back, and steps closer to Keith. “When I was a child, Father kept a woman as company. I spent quite a bit of time with her, as she took it upon herself to assist me in my studies. She was demure and unquestionably loyal to the Empire, and Father kept her around for longer than most. I was rather fond of her, and I expressed it to Father as well — it was before I learned he does not care for my opinion. She once asked me if I would like to have a sibling.” Lotor smiles ruefully. “Two weeks later Father took me to the Arena for the first time and I got to watch one of Haggar’s experiments tear her to shreds.”

Keith swallows, unsure of how to reply. Lotor bows his head and heads back towards the door. “Do let me know if you need anything.”

Keith stares after him, wishing Zarkon wasn’t asleep so that Keith could cling to him for comfort.

 

* * *

 

Ezor and Acxa take Shiro, Hunk, Matt and Pidge to their newly assigned rooms, Shiro and Hunk sharing their room, and Matt and Pidge sharing another room. Acxa asks Hunk if he’d be interested in making dinner — apparently Keith has told Lotor Hunk is a rather talented cook — and after some consideration Hunk says he’d like to see the kitchen first, as long as he gets to bring Shiro with him.

Acxa studies them closely for a moment, but eventually she inclines her head. “I think that can be arranged.”

They let Hunk and Shiro take a moment to get settled and wash up in the bathroom at the end of the hallway. They meet Matt there, and he informs them that Pidge is busy trying to hack the control panel of their room’s door.

“She can’t do much more than study it since our generous hosts took all our stuff, but it keeps her busy.” Matt splashes his face with water, and Hunk hands him a towel. “It’s good to keep busy.”

“Just make sure she doesn’t do anything to piss the Galra off,” Shiro says. “We need to play along until your father is safe.”

Matt’s expression turns serious and he nods. “I’ll make sure of that.”

Hunk and Shiro wait for someone to come take them to the kitchen, and they don’t have to wait long; Ezor shows up fifteen minutes after they return to their small room.

The kitchen is comfortable and warm, and Hunk doesn’t hesitate to start rummaging through the cabinets.

“I need to take a scan of your arm,” Ezor tells Shiro.

Shiro holds the arm closer to himself. “Why?”

Ezor rolls her eyes. “Because we don’t want you trying to use it to access our systems. Just put your hand there and hold until the beep.” She holds a pad out to Shiro, and after a moment of hesitation Shiro places his hand on it. The pad whirs, then beeps, and Ezor grins at Shiro. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Shiro mutters.

“I have to get back to work now. The comms are programmed to accept non-Galran bio signatures so you can call us if you need anything,” Ezor says as she heads out through the doors.

Shiro joins Hunk, watching him study the contents of the cabinets. “Find anything edible?”

Hunk pulls out a box and eyes it critically. “I guess I can make something out of this.”

“I have full confidence in your abilities.”

Before Hunk can reply, Keith walks through the doors. “I thought I’d remind you that the Galra have sensitive taste buds and you should avoid excessive use of spices.”

Hunk nods. “I’ll keep that in mind. I don’t even know what I’ll make of this stuff yet.”

Keith stands by the door for a few second before crossing the floor to join Hunk’s side. “That’s kinda like lentils.” Keith moves to the metallic double doors and taps at the panel on them, and soon the doors slide aside. “This would go well with it” — he pulls out a pack of meat — “and then maybe a salad and gravy?”

“Are you making the food?” Hunk asks, the smile tugging at the corner of his lips taking the edge off his words.

“Sorry.” Keith’s ears droop sheepishly.

Hunk picks the meat up and studies it. “I can work with this. What kind of gravy should I make?”

Shiro smiles, happy to watch Keith instruct Hunk in the basics of Galran cuisine. Hunk gets to preparing the food, and he tasks Keith with reading instructions form the boxes and searching for suitable recipes with his pad. They settle on something Hunk thinks won’t be too difficult to prepare in the strange kitchen.

Once the meat is cooking, Hunk orders Shiro to help Keith make the salad.

“I need to figure out what spices I’ll add to the table for us,” Hunk claims as the reason. “And we’ll need bread. If the Galra have bread.”

“They do,” Keith confirms.

Hunk hums and searches through the kitchen for the bread while Keith and Shiro make the salad.

“Are Pidge and Matt adjusting okay?” Keith asks after a minute of companionable silence.

“I think so,” Shiro replies. “Pidge is anxious but Matt thinks she’ll be fine. Matt’s doing okay, considering his history with the Galra.”

Keith nods and returns to cutting vegetables.

Once the salad is done and the food passes Hunk and Keith’s inspection, Shiro helps Hunk set the table while Keith lets everyone else know the food is ready.

Five minutes later Lotor strides into the kitchen, with Matt and Pidge in tow. “My generals have decided to have a late dinner tonight, and they are hoping you made enough food to last for them.”

“I did,” Hunk replies, the easiness gone from his voice.

They take their seats at the table, Lotor at the head, Keith on Lotor’s left, and Shiro takes his right side. Pidge, Matt and Hunk take the seats next to them.

“What about Gailek and Kiira?” Pidge asks.

“Gailek’s sleeping and Kiira said something about not liking meat and having a lot of work to catch up on,” Keith replies.

They fill their plates, Hunk observing everyone’s reactions to the food — especially Keith and Lotor’s. Keith seems to enjoy the food, but Lotor’s face remains unreadable.

“Where are we heading, exactly?” Shiro asks to fill the silence.

“Our destination is not something you need to concern yourselves with,” Lotor replies, then — after Keith frowns at him — amends, “I have been ordered to not reveal our destination to anyone.”

They eat mostly in silence — there’s nothing for them to really talk about — but Shiro keeps glancing at Keith. He’s drifting, that much is obvious, slowly getting lost in his mind again. Shiro doesn’t want to believe it’s something Kiira has done to Keith, but as Keith’s headaches disappeared, he started to slip into his mind, and try as Shiro might, he can’t ignore that possibility, not even though Coran thinks it’s just a coping mechanism.

“Keith,” Shiro says softly, getting no reaction. Keith merely pushes the vegetables on his plate around.

“Keith!”

Keith’s head snaps up so fast Shiro half expects him to get whiplash. Everyone stills, their eyes going from Shiro to Keith.

“Huh?” Keith blinks at Shiro, confused.

“What are you thinking?”

“Um,” Keith glances at Lotor, and Shiro frowns. “I’m just tired, sorry. I wasn’t thinking about anything.”

Shiro would argue if they were alone, but as it is he only gives Keith a puzzled, concerned look.

“It is rather late,” Lotor says, “and I imagine you have had a rather taxing day.”

Keith hums again. “Yeah.” He drifts for a moment before snapping out of it and sitting straighter. “You still haven’t apologized for breaking Shiro’s arm.”

Lotor quirks an eyebrow. “I see no reason to apologize when I have done nothing wrong.”

Shiro opens his mouth to tell Keith to let it be, that it’s not important, when Keith laughs.

“Did I say something amusing?” Lotor asks, setting her utensils down.

Keith shakes his head. “No, you just sound like Zarkon and I was wondering if that’s a learned thing or if the superiority complex is a genetic trait.”

Lotor stares at Keith, as dumbfounded as everyone else. Keith meets Lotor’s eyes for a moment before he looks away, chuckling. “It’s genetic. It’s definitely genetic,” he mutters, talking more to himself than to the others.

“I am not sure if — “

“I’m not trying to insult _you_ ,” Keith says, laughter clinging to his voice. “I’m not — don’t take it personally.”

Lotor studies Keith, his expression somewhere between baffled and amused. “I would argue it is a learned trait that every member of the Imperial Family has suffered of for generations, though I do not believe I share it myself.”

Keith snorts.

Matt clears his throat, sharing a look with Pidge. “Is there a schedule we need to adhere to?”

Lotor tilts his head, considering it. “Yes and no; we do run the ship on a schedule, but it is a fluctuating one as we all live in a slightly different rhythm. You won’t be here for long enough for it to matter. You know where the kitchen is, I am sure you can make your own breakfast. Hunk, was it?” Hunk nods. “He may cook for you if you require a meal. We will be arriving at Haggar’s ship in less than two days, after all.”

“Haggar’s ship?” Pidge pipes in. Even Keith looks surprised.

Lotor sighs. “Yes. Father gifted her with her own ship a long time ago, in case she should need it. She deemed it the best location to treat Father” — Lotor smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes — “and she was clearly right.”

They finish the dinner, occasionally talking, but mostly silent. Keith drifts back to his thoughts, and nobody stops it.

After the dinner, Shiro contemplates asking Keith to walk with him to Shiro’s room, but Lotor beats him to it, and Keith heads towards the bridge without a glance in Shiro’s direction.

Lotor pauses at the doors to tell Shiro and the others that someone will be coming to take them back to their rooms shortly, and then he’s gone, along with Keith.

 

* * *

 

Lotor shows Keith the bridge an officially introduces him to his generals before they return to... well, Lotor supposes they are Keith’s quarters now. Lotor stays long enough a cup of tea with Keith and observe him just a bit more before wishing him good night and returning to the bridge.

“Has anything of interest come up?”

“No,” Acxa replies. “We got the humans back to their rooms, and we’re keeping an eye on the druid and the Galra officer.”

“We’re on course and on time,” Zethrid adds. “Though in my opinion we should take the opportunity to study their shuttle more. Taking readings and scans isn’t that comprehensive.”

“Your opinion is noted.” Lotor takes his seat, considering the journey ahead of them. He’s not happy about going to the Wastelands, and he’s certainly not happy about entering Haggar’s ship, but it cannot be helped.

“Lotor?” Ezor’s concerned voice drags Lotor out of his thoughts, and he gives his attention to her. She shifts. “If the Emperor’s back, what will happen to us?”

Lotor looks from her to the other generals, their expressions holding the same concern as Ezor’s.

“Nothing will happen to us. Father might take the throne back, but it will not affect our lives in a significant way,” Lotor tells them, even if it tastes like a lie.

 

* * *

 

Keith takes two showers and changes his clothes five times on the day they’re supposed to reach Haggar’s ship. Zarkon is resting, so Keith can’t rely on him for comfort and reassurances.

Keith strips the wrap shirt and puts on a basic black t-shirt he’d stolen from Shiro. He takes that off a minute later and puts on another shirt, this one deep, wine red and low collared, and one of Keith’s favorites of the shirts the Blade had bought him. It’s not a bad match for the black pants and the heels he’s going to be wearing, especially if he’ll put the rather nicely cut military style coat on as well.

Maybe he should pick another color scheme for his clothes.

The knock on his door stops him from doing so, and to his surprise Shiro’s there, with Zethrid standing behind him.

“Can you take him?” She asks, nodding towards Shiro.

Keith sighs, but nods and stands aside to let Shiro into the room. He closes the door and turns to watch Shiro eye the mess Keith has created with the clothes.

“What are you doing?” Shiro asks.

“Trying to decide what to wear.” Keith walks across the floor, picking clothes up as he goes and throwing them on the bed. “Since Coran didn’t fix the clothes I was wearing when you took me I don’t have anything good enough to wear.”

Shiro doesn’t answer, so Keith adds; “I think Coran did it on purpose.”

“We’ve been busy,” Shiro says. “Fixing clothes hasn’t really been a priority.”

Keith doesn’t reply. Instead he stops in front of Shiro, spreading his arms. “How do I look?”

Shiro swallows and smiles, but it’s tense and doesn’t reach his eyes. “You look great.”

Keith sighs, happy and relieved. “I was worried... since Coran didn’t fix the clothes Zarkon gave me I had to improvise. I was thinking I should put the jewelry Zarkon gave me on, but do you think that might be too much?”

Shiro looks at Keith and shakes his head. “You look fine, don’t worry about it.”

Keith nods. “You’re right, the jewelry would be overkill.”

“Yeah.”

The tightness around Shiro’s eyes doesn’t go away. Keith steps around him and picks up the rest of his clothes. He wants to try another outfit, but he’s been at it for over an hour now and he knows he looks as good as he’s going to look — at least after he does his hair.

“Did you want something?”

Shiro shifts and crosses his arms. “We’re all just a little concerned about what’s going to happen to us once we reach our destination.”

Keith stills and considers it. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it beyond seeing Zarkon again. I suppose you’ll be given a room, and Lotor will take Pidge, Hunk and Matt back as soon as Zarkon gives Sam to them.”

Shiro nods, but he doesn’t look convinced.

Keith offers him a smile. “It’ll be fine, don’t worry. If you can’t trust Zarkon then trust me.”

Shiro relaxes, just a bit. “I do trust you.”

On a whim, Keith bridges the distance between them and presses a kiss on the corner of Shiro’s mouth. Shiro’s eyes widen in surprise, and he stands there in dumbfounded silence while Keith hastily packs his clothes into the nearest bag, not bothering to fold them.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice is soft, almost hesitant, and Keith stops and turns to him. “Do you still want this — us, I mean. You’ll be getting back to Zarkon and — “

“I’ll talk to him about us,” Keith says. “And unless he says no outright we’ll all sit down and talk together — assuming you two can act like adults.”

Shiro laughs softly. “I’ll manage, at least.” His expression turns more serious. “What if he says no? What are you going to do then?”

“He won’t,” Keith replies and starts brushing his hair.

Shiro takes a step closer to him. “But what if — “

“He won’t say no, okay? He won’t.” Keith glares at the floor, refusing to even think of the possibility of Zarkon saying no.

Shiro sighs. “I get that you want everything to go the way you want and we’ll all be happy together, but the chances of that happening are basically nonexistent at this point. We’re on different sides of the war, for starters. We’re not going to live happily together. What you’d get is tolerance, and I’m not trying to be mean here, but you need to accept the reality.”

Keith swallows down the bitterness in his throat, his eyes burning. “Why’d you do this now?”

“Because you’re going to have to deal with this in a matter of hours.”

Keith slams the brush on the table and turns to glare at Shiro. “What do you want me to say? That I’d choose you over Zarkon if I’d have to? Because I can’t do that. I know you think he’s brainwashed me or something as ridiculous, but I can’t leave him just because you don’t want to even try.”

“I never said I don’t want to try, I’m just...” Shiro bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Well, you’ve failed miserably on that front,” Keith snaps. “You can go now.”

Keith turns his back on Shiro and returns to brushing his hair. “I’ll call someone to get you from the hallway.”

Keith doesn’t look back; he waits until he hears Shiro move away and get out of the door before he sends a quick message to the bridge, only then allowing the tears to fall from his eyes.

 

* * *

 

By evening Keith’s done his hair up as well as he can, and he’s on the bridge, standing still by Lotor’s side despite feeling like he’s vibrating out of his skin.

“We are approaching the coordinates,” Acxa says.

“Hail them to let them know we are preparing to dock,” Lotor replies before turning to Keith. “You might want to get your things and head to the airlock on the fourth level, on the starboard side.”

Keith nods. “Okay. I’ll — I’ll do that. Thanks.” Keith heads form the bridge and to his room to get his bags, and once he's there he sends a message to Gailek and Kiira and asks them to make sure Shiro and the others make their way to the airlock in time.

Keith strides as fast as he can without running, and soon he’s pacing in front of the airlock, waiting for the ship to dock, clutching the strap of his bag tightly.

The others arrive shortly, and Pidge and Matt share Keith’s anxiousness. Gailek looks happy to get home, but Shiro and Hunk are uncomfortable and on edge. For a moment, Keith wants to ask if things are okay between him and Shiro, but Shiro isn’t meeting his eyes and there are too many people around them.

Lotor joins them moments later, with Narti following him, and Keith finally stops pacing, his tail flicking from side to side.

“You really should calm down, you are close to hyperventilating,” Lotor tells him.

Keith inclines his head; it would explain why his head feels so light. He takes a deep breath and holds it for a few seconds, then breathes out slowly. He feels a little better after doing it a few more times.

“I would advise you all to stay close by; the ship is filled with druids and they are far less accommodating of strangers than a Galra crew would be.” Lotor gives the humans a pointed look. “You are better off doing as you are told.”

“We’ll keep that in mind,” Shiro promises.

Lotor inclines his head.

The ship shudders, and the docking clamps close with a loud clank. Keith’s breath catches in his throat. He’s frozen in place as the airlock pressurizes, and he thinks he might faint. He doesn’t even have it in him to reach out to Zarkon.

Shiro takes his hand and offers him a small smile. Keith can’t return the smile, but he does squeeze Shiro’s hand, and when Shiro takes a step forward Keith follows him. Lotor leads the way to the druid ship. Narti stays a step behind him, and Kiira follows them close by. Shiro pulls Keith after them, with Matt and Pidge close by, and Hunk and Gailek taking the tail with their bags.

The druid vessel is cooler than Lotor’s had been, the lights colder. Keith doesn’t get to take more of it in before Haggar is waving a scanner at his face. Keith is torn between telling Haggar to cut it off and greeting her, so he settles for just standing there and letting her do as she pleases while Keith focuses on calming himself down.

“You seem unharmed.” Haggar concludes her examination and hands the scanner to Kiira like she’d never been gone. Without giving Keith a chance to say anything, she grabs his head and tilts it from side to side, up and down, scrutinizing Keith with a hard scowl on her face. “How have you been?”

“Fine. I had headaches a while back but they’re gone now,” Keith replies as Haggar studies his ears, twisting them uncomfortably. “Remember what happened the last time you twisted them?”

Haggar lets go of Keith, studying him closely for a few seconds longer before turning to scowl at Lotor. “Take them to see the prisoner.”

Lotor’s lips thin, but whatever his opinion on Haggar ordering him around is, he keeps it to himself. Lotor inclines his head and tells Matt and Pidge to follow him, and the three druids Haggar had brought with her follow them. Hunk stays by Shiro’s side, his expression hard.

Haggar turns to Kiira and waves at Gailek. “Take him and go to the second level for debriefing.”

Kiira bows and nudges Gailek to get him to move. It leaves Keith, Shiro and Hunk alone with Haggar, but she doesn’t seem concerned about it. Keith isn’t surprised, Haggar would have no problem overpowering the three of them if she so desired.

They follow Haggar when she heads down the hallway, Shiro gripping Keith’s hand, and Hunk walking behind them. Keith wants to ask where Zarkon is, but he doesn’t dare to break the silence. Instead he nudges the bond, getting reassurance that Zarkon is coming to him in response.

Keith breathes a little easier as they head down another corridor. He’s about to ask Haggar where they’re heading when a less than happy looking Zarkon rounds the corner. The world stops — or maybe it’s just Shiro coming to an abrupt halt, yanking Keith back with him.

Zarkon gives Keith a cursory glance before talking to Haggar in Galran, his tone hard. Keith’s hazy brain translates it as something along the lines of _you locked the door_. Haggar doesn’t dignify it with an answer, but she does lower her gaze to the floor.

Keith ignores everything around him, his world narrowing down to _get to Zarkon now_. He tears himself free from Shiro’s hold and runs, away from Shiro and towards Zarkon, his heart feeling lighter with every step he takes.

Zarkon smiles, all anger and hardness vanishing from his expression. Keith collides with him hard enough to knock the air out of him and force him to take a step back. Zarkon chuckles softly, and it’s the sweetest sound Keith has ever heard. He clings to him harder, burying his face in Zarkon’s chest, letting out a small noise when Zarkon wraps his arms around him, pulling him impossibly close.

“I swear I didn’t mean to leave,” Keith says, his voice soft.

“I know,” Zarkon replies just as softly. “I have missed you.”

Keith’s eyes burn, but he manages a quiet laugh. “I missed you too.” He pulls away, just enough to look at Zarkon, his smile fading at the sight of the gauntness of Zarkon’s face — his cheeks too hollow, his eyes not holding their usual liveliness. Keith runs his fingers across Zarkon’s cheek, his frown deepening at the coldness of his skin, despite the warmth that Keith always feels when he touches Zarkon slowly seeping through his skin. Zarkon’s smile falters for a second before he buries his hands in Keith’s hair and presses his forehead to Keith’s, chasing away all negative thoughts from Keith’s mind.

After an eternity and barely a second, Zarkon pulls away, but he doesn’t let go of Keith. Keith chases after him, craving the feeling of Zarkon’s mind against his, of the comfort of his touch.

Haggar clears her throat behind them before approaching them, Shiro and Hunk trailing after her. “I need to run a few tests on him.”

“It can wait,” Zarkon replies as he runs his thumb across Keith’s cheek. Keith leans into the touch, reveling in the sense of _safe_ and _home_ , his eyes falling shut.

He might even purr softly, he isn’t sure.

“I think it would be better if — “

“It can wait,” Zarkon repeats, his voice harsher this time.

Haggar shifts. “Very well.”

Keith opens his eyes at the approaching footsteps and the clear shift in the bond, like Zarkon is withdrawing into himself. Keith frowns, but when he glances over his shoulder he’s not surprised to see Lotor there.

Lotor stops, and though he does his best to appear nonchalant there’s an edge to him — something like hopefulness — that he can’t quite hide. “If you have a moment, I would like to talk to you.”

“Later,” Zarkon replies, returning his attention to Keith, picking at the collar of Keith’s coat and frowning.

Keith gives Zarkon an inquisitive look.

Zarkon tugs at Keith’s collar. “These are hideous and they need to be incinerated.”

Keith blinks slowly, then huffs a laugh and presses his head against Zarkon’s chest, taking a moment to enjoy the familiarity of it all.

He pulls away after a moment, still smiling. “Fine.”

Zarkon tilts his head, satisfied of getting his way. It only makes Keith smile more.

Keith shakes his head, but he picks his bag from the floor he’d dropped it on and goes to step around Zarkon. “Where are we staying?” Zarkon’s hand on his chest stops him, and Keith takes a step back, confusion coloring his expression.

“Now.” Zarkon glances at Keith’s clothes. “You are not taking these... garments anywhere near my space. I want them gone now.”

Keith looks around, a bemused smile tugging at his lips. He turns to Zarkon, unable to stop his amusement from showing. “Um, just... let me get this straight; you want me to strip naked here, in front of not only Shiro — we’ve talked about him, remember?” Keith waves at Shiro for emphasis, and Zarkon narrows his eyes. “But also your son.” Keith raises a pointed eyebrow, his smile widening as he watches realization dawn on Zarkon’s face.

“You may utilize the decontamination area in Haggar’s laboratories,” Zarkon says and turns to Haggar. “You can run your scans then. And make sure he has not developed a skin condition from his clothes.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Just so you know, I packed more clothes in my bags which... I don’t know where Gailek took them. They might already be in your quarters.”

“Stop him and destroy them all,” Zarkon orders Haggar, who sighs quietly, but takes out a small pocket pad does as she’s told.

“What am I going to wear?” Keith asks. “If you’re gonna be burning all my clothes?”

Zarkon tilts his head minutely, and Keith spreads his arms. “Am I supposed to walk around without clothes — don’t answer that.”

Zarkon lets his amusement drip through the bond, and Keith suppresses a groan. “I am sure we can arrange something for you until we can transport your clothes here.”

Keith inclines his head and spares a look to Shiro who is eyeing them with an unreadable if dark expression. Keith bites his lip, knowing Shiro is going to hate him for what he’s about to do, but he can’t talk himself out of it either. Keith rummages through his bag until his hands brush on the bayard there, and he pulls it out, presenting it to Zarkon and pointedly ignoring Shiro. He doesn’t need to see the look on his face, not when he’d purposefully told Sihro to leave the bayard behind in his room, where Keith could get it from.

“I assume you want this back.”

Zarkon’s expression brightens, and he grabs the bayard. “Thank you.”

Keith waves him off. “It’s yours.” He hoists his back up his shoulder and sighs. “If I get my clothes incinerated now, is there gonna be dinner afterwards?”

Zarkon inclines his head, and Keith takes a step towards Haggar, ignoring the pain in his chest walking away from Zarkon causes him. “You have time to thank Lotor for saving my life now.”

Haggar heads down the hallway without a word, and Keith follows her, along with Hunk and Shiro, who looks at Keith like he’s a stranger. Keith ignores it, telling himself he can apologize for stealing the bayard later. For now he wants to focus on being back where he belongs.

“And get me new clothes!” Keith calls over his shoulder. He hates leaving Zarkon’s side even for a moment, but as he walks around a corner and he can’t see Zarkon anymore, Zarkon tugs at the bond to let Keith know he’s still there, and that he’s not going anywhere. It eases Keith’s mind and his steps grow just a little lighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be super busy next week so the next update is probably gonna be pushed closer to next weekend, but I'll definitely get another chapter out next week. If a miracle happens, maybe even two.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was supposed to post this hours ago but I got caught up watching Trollhunters and 3Below, and I'm not gonna apologize for it because those shows are amazing and they deserved all of my attention. And I did get this updated today like I said I would so yay :D

Keith relinquishes his clothes to a druid, then he takes a hot shower while he waits for someone to bring him a new set of Zarkon approved clothes. When Keith exits the shower, Haggar is there, holding folded clothes in her arms.

“How are Shiro and Hunk?” Keith asks as he dries his hair. “And the Holts?”

“I have not paid them any attention yet. They are currently waiting in the main area, and I will scan your friend’s arm as soon as I have the time. I have no interest in the family, but I have not heard of them causing any problems.”

Keith inclines his head and hastily applies lotion to his skin before turning to Haggar and spreading his arms. “So, do I have a skin condition from wearing low quality clothes?”

Haggar smiles, just for a tick, before handing the clothes in her hands to Keith. “I will trust you to tell me if you did.”

Keith nods and puts the clothes on — dark, form fitting shirt and matching leggins — and pulls on the heels Zarkon has allowed him to keep, since he’s the one who got them for Keith in the first place. “Can I go back to Zarkon now?”

“No.”

Keith frowns at Haggar, who waves Keith to sit on the seat in the corner. Keith takes the seat, his back too straight.

“The Emperor will not tell you this, but you must understand how perilous the situation is at the moment.”

Keith shifts and bites his lip.

Haggar looks around the bathroom, a thoughtful frown on her face. “You are aware of the Empire’s opinion on you, so I will not get into it. But Zarkon... he is not well. He will hide it and pretend nothing is wrong, but the Princess harmed him in a way that I cannot fix as easily as I would like. The magic she used on him is poisoning him.”

Keith’s ears draw back, and he shifts. “What do you mean?”

Haggar sits next to Keith. “We all have quintessence in ourselves — “

Keith nods. “Kiira’s been teaching me about it. That’s how you do your magic.”

Haggar inclines her head. “The amount of quintessence — the type of it — in Zarkon is unique, and the Princess’s magic is corrupting it. We have devised ways to combat it, and Kiira is debriefing us on what she has learned so that we can better help Zarkon, but no matter what he says, he is not well. He requires rest. He should not be moving around, at least not much. Keep him calm and off his feet as much as possible. Do not bother him with things that could cause him too much stress if you can help it.”

Keith nods as Haggar speaks, his muscles tensing with her every word.

“You are in a unique position to observe him, so I will task you with his care,” Haggar adds.

“I’ll take care of him, don’t worry,” Keith promises.

“I would hope so. He might be on his feet, but he is severely ill, and I would hate for us to lose him. I have already had to stop him from taking control of the Empire several times; he is not ready for that kind of strain just yet.” Haggar stands. “I will run those tests now.”

Keith hurries to his feet and follows Haggar into the adjacent laboratory. He ponders on Haggar’s words as she and her druids examine him properly, running tests and scans and poking him, and he answers the questions posed to him absently.

As soon as Haggar clears him, Keith demands to know where Zarkon is. Haggar programs Keith’s pad with a map of the ship and sends him on his way, her attention already on the scans she’d taken of Keith.

A druid hands Keith a loose, dark red wrap shirt, and Keith puts it on before heading to the door.

“Keith?”

Keith stops and turns to Shiro, surprised to hear his voice. Keith had forgotten about him, and the unsure look in Shiro’s eyes fills him with guilt. He wants to get to Zarkon as soon as possible, but he pushes that need down and goes to Shiro and Hunk. “What?”

“What’s going on?” Shiro asks, fear clear in his eyes when they flicker to the passing druids — to the experiments they’re running and their devices. “Do you know where Matt and Pidge are?”

Keith shakes his head. “No, but I think they’re with Sam. I’m sure they’re fine, don’t worry. Haggar’s gonna scan your arm so that she can figure out what’s wrong with it, and then you’ll get to leave the lab. I don’t... Haggar!” Keith turns to her, but he doesn’t get a response. “ _Haggar_!”

Haggar lifts her eyes from her computer, scowling at Keith. “What?”

“You’re not planning on throwing them into a cell, right?”

Haggar glances at Shiro and Hunk, then returns her attention back to her screen. “That is up to the Emperor.”

Keith rolls his eyes and pokes Zarkon through the bond, but he doesn’t get a response. He sighs and turns to Shiro and Hunk, offering them a reassuring smile. “I’ll make sure you’ll get a room, don’t worry.”

Shiro doesn’t look convinced.

“Will you stay with us until then?” Hunk asks, crossing his arms.

Keith shakes his head. “I have to go to Zarkon.”

“No you don’t,” Hunk says. “You don’t _have_ to do anything. You didn’t have to steal the bayard and give it to him, for example.”

Keith sighs and his ears flatten, but ultimately he decides that this is not the time or the place to explain himself to his friends. “I’ll make sure you’ll get dinner as well.” Keith nods at Shiro before turning on his heels and striding out of the room.

Keith follows the map to Zarkon’s quarters on the next level, positioned as close to the heart of the ship without being in Haggar’s laboratories as possible. He opens the door, but the dimmed lights keep Keith from calling Zarkon’s name.

After turning the lights on, Keith steps through the door, taking in the space that’s reminiscent of Zarkon’s quarters in the Central Command, except slightly bigger and with more plants and less books on the shelves. Keith trudges to the couch and slumps on it, nudging the bond again to let Zarkon know he misses him.

 

* * *

 

Lotor follows his father to a conference room, and though his father sits down, he remains standing.

“What do you want?” Zarkon asks, his tone already harsh.

Lotor’s eyes flicker down, and he clasps his hands behind his back so that he won’t cross them to shield himself from his father — an act that would not go unnoticed. “Will you be taking control of the Empire?”

“Of course,” his father replies, sparing Lotor a displeased look. “You barely took the time to set foot in the Palace, and the Empire is in the worst shape it has ever been. Perhaps I should have taken Haggar’s advice and left you in the far reaches of the Empire instead of allowing you to take the throne — even temporarily. You are clearly incapable of dealing with the responsibility of it; you could not even keep up order in the Empire. We have not been this close to a civil war in hundreds of thousands of years.”

Lotor opens his mouth, but his father raises his hand, shutting Lotor up.

“I suppose I ought to take responsibility for that; it is obvious I have failed to teach you even the basics of how to rule.”

“I did what I thought was best to ensure the continued survival of the Empire!” Lotor snaps, unable to keep his anger in check any longer. “And how do you suppose I would have survived in the Palace when that Witch of yours thought it too dangerous for even you to remain there? The Galra hate me because _you_ have encouraged them to view anyone not pure Galra as inferior, and yet you put me on the throne, and you are surprised by the reaction it got from the people? Why would you have a half-breed child if you do not see us as worthy of being Galra? Do you consider Keith lesser than your people because of his heritage as well? If you think so little of my kind then perhaps you should not have had a child with an outworlder. Or is the problem just of my Altean blood? Does that make me an enemy your precious traditions have forced you to harbor? Or do I just remind you of mother so much you hate me for it? Her death was not my doing, and I do not deserve to be punished for it!”

Lotor’s jaw snaps shut the tick he realizes he has lost control. His father stares at him, his expression unreadable in that way that Lotor has learned to fear.

“I a — “

“Get out.”

Lotor swallows, collects himself, and bows. He should say ‘ _yes, Sire_ ’ or ‘ _thank you for your time, my Lord_ ’ like a good prince would say. Instead, what comes out of is a barely audible whisper of, “ _Vala._ ”

Lotor strides out of the room, not waiting to find out if his father heard him.

He heads straight to his ship where his father has never set foot on, and where Lotor trust he will not follow.

 

* * *

 

Shiro watches Keith leave, trying not to feel betrayed. Keith has missed Zarkon so of course he wants to go to him, though in Shiro’s opinion their initial meeting had been more than a little off, what with Zarkon taking the first opportunity to pick something about Keith to control — in this instance, his clothing. And Keith hadn’t offered a single word of complaint; he hadn’t even appeared to care. It was so unlike Keith to not stand up for himself, and Shiro can't just ignore it.

A druid appears before Shiro, and Hunk is there by his side in an instant. The druid ignores Hunk in  favor of addressing Shiro; “The High Priestess will see you now.”

They don’t give Shiro and opinion to walk away.

Hunk stays by Shiro’s side as they follow the druid, but Shiro still wants to scream — to run away and never look back. They reach an examination table and Shiro stops, his breath caught in his throat. Hunk touches his elbow, assuring Shiro he’s not alone.

It does little to help, especially when Haggar joins them. She smiles at Shiro, but it’s cold and wicked, and Shiro can’t breathe. “Welcome back.”

Hunk steps in front of Shiro, but — regaining the last of his self-control — Shiro touches his arm. “It’s fine.” He turns to Haggar, holding on to Hunk’s arm tighter. “What do you want?”

Haggar waves her hand at the examination table. “Lie down.”

Shiro keeps holding on to Hunk’s arm, and Hunk helps him onto the examination table without a word; Shiro’s legs are too weak for him to ever manage it on his own. The table is freezing under him, and for a moment Shiro is sure he’s going to be strapped down and sedated, and then thrown into the Arena again. He jolts, barely keeping himself from hopping down from the table and running out of the laboratory.

“Will you be good and remain still, or do I have to strap you down?” Haggar asks.

Shiro lets out a shuddering breath. “I can be still on my own, thanks-”

“Good.” Haggar moves past a druid, and even without her saying anything, the druid seems to know what is expected of them.

Just like they always did.

“You must remain calm, or I will sedate you,” Haggar says as she takes Shiro’s Galran arm in her hands and studies it closely.

Shiro nods and tries to breath through his panic. Hunk circles the table and takes Shiro’s free hand in his, and Shiro squeezes Hunk’s fingers until his own turn white.

After a minute, Haggar pulls a scanner up to Shiro’s arm, and the light it pulses with as it scans Shiro’s arm and body makes Shiro want to scream. The scan doesn’t last long, but to Shiro it feels like an eternity in hell. The machine hums quietly, but the sound of it is deafening in Shiro’s ears.

Shiro tries not to think about it, or about when he was strapped down and bleeding from his most recent fight, his arm in shatters and Haggar coming in and _cut it off_ and the pain that followed and _oh god what happened to his arm —_

Haggar pulls the machine away. “You may sit up.”

Hunk helps Shiro do just that. As soon as Shiro is sitting, a druid draws Shiro’s blood, and another one checks his eyesight and reflexes. Shiro doesn’t know why either of those things would be important when his arm has been damaged, but he’s too busy trying not to panic to ask.

Hunk glares at the druids until they clear Shiro and allow him to climb down from the examination table. Shiro’s feet are like jelly under him, and he grips the edge of the table with a clammy hand.

“Take them to the back until I know where to assign them,” Haggar tells the druids.

Hunk guides Shiro where they need to go, as Shiro isn’t sure he’s in a state where he could do so himself. “It’s over,” Hunk mutters to Shiro as they walk, and Shiro nods weakly.

“Thanks,” Shiro manages, and Hunk squeezes his arm in response.

The druid leads them to the back of the laboratory, and another one brings them two chairs to sit on.

“Wait quietly,” they order, and Shiro and Hunk do just that.

An hour later — after Shiro has calmed down — a druid takes them to a small room with two beds. “Food will be delivered to you, the comms are directed to call the guards should you require anything.”

The druid leaves, and Shiro sits on one of the beds while Hunk scans their surroundings. Shiro closes his eyes and lies down, trusting Hunk to wake him up should anything happen.

 

* * *

 

Zarkon arrives as the druid bringing their dinner is leaving, looking weary, though he tries to hide it. Keith rushes to his side and helps him to the head of the table despite Zarkon insisting he’s fine.

“Are you okay?”

Zarkon inclines his head. “I have merely had a long day, do not worry.”

Keith bites his lip. “Haggar said — “

“She exaggerates. “

Keith’s ears flatten and he frowns while Zarkon studies his plate, his expression too hard. Keith doubts it’s the food, and he’s sure it’s not his presence either. Maybe it’s Shiro and Hunk.

“Did you talk to Lotor?”

Zarkon’s fork scrapes against the plate with a painful screech, and Keith knows he’s found the source of Zarkon’s sour mood. He doesn’t want a fight on his first day back, and not when Zarkon is not well. Instead he takes his glass and sips the wine, deciding that pressing the matter is not worth it. If Zarkon wants to talk, he can, but Keith isn’t going to make him do it.

“We had a disagreement of sorts,” Zarkon says after a long minute of silence.

Keith takes a bite of his meat, relishing the familiar taste filling his mouth. “About what?”

Zarkon tilts his head, his expression turning sour for a moment. “I pointed out that fact that he has brought the Empire to a brink of civil war. He reacted emotionally and accused me of purposefully setting him up to fail.”

Keith frowns as his tail wraps around Zarkon’s ankle. “Can I ask why you two don’t get along?”

“Lotor is a difficult child,” Zarkon replies, but even without the bond Keith knows it’s not the truth.

Keith shouldn’t prod, it’s not his place, but he can’t stop himself. “That’s all?” Zarkon offers Keith an annoyed if quizzical look. “I’ve talked to him. He thinks you don’t care about him and that you view him as a mistake. He says you approach everything he does from the perspective that he’ll either fail or he’s trying to personally offend you in some way. I’m just wondering what the truth is.”

Zarkon frowns at his plate. “There is nothing to talk about.”

“Yes there is,” Keith insists. “I’m supposed to be a part of your family, right? I think I deserve to know what’s going on.”

Zarkon sets his fork down, not meeting Keith’s eyes. He remains silent for a long moment and Keith does his best not to rush him, though he does take Zarkon’s hand. “Some years ago, Lotor and I had an argument,” Zarkon starts, and Keith sits up straighter. “I had allowed him to spend time studying our archives, and to go dig around in ancient ruins. It was something he enjoyed, and I saw no reason to stop him.”

“But?” Keith prompts when Zarkon falls silent.

“He discovered an old Altean terraforming plant, and somehow he managed to get enough power there to activate the systems. When he came back he would not stop insisting we utilize Altean knowledge, and that we should attempt to try to be more like them.”

Keith grimaces. “Let me guess, you lost it?”

Zarkon sighs. “I admit I did not react well, if that is what you mean.” He frowns and reaches for his glass with his free hand, downing almost half of it in one go. “He believes that because he has an interest in science and he is part Altean he reminds me of Honerva, and that is why I have a problem with him, and he refuses to see the stupidity of his ideas.”

Keith shifts, running his thumb over the back of Zarkon’s hand. “Does he?”

“Does he what?”

“Remind you of her?”

Zarkon looks away, his ears tilting back for a flash of a second, the only sign of his discomfort. “He is her child, they are bound to have some similarities, but I do not see how that is relevant.”

Keith frowns, his mind prodding Zarkon’s, trying to figure out what the real problem is. “He’s your son too.” Keith tilts his head when Zarkon tenses minutely. “He reminds you of you.”

Zarkon scoffs. “He is an idiot.”

“For wanting to better the Empire?”

“For thinking any good can come from working with other species or utilizing their methods,” Zarkon snaps, reigning his emotions in too late.

Keith’s frown fades, replaced by a small smile. “Like you did?”

Zarkon frowns and pulls his hand free from Keith’s hold. “He will not listen when I tell him nothing good will come from it. He...”

 _“_ He’s like you before the rift,” Keith says, his voice soft. He reaches for Zarkon, brushing his fingers against Zarkon’s wrist. “There’s nothing wrong with that.”

 _“_ He will get himself hurt,” Zarkon replies.

Keith shakes his head. “Maybe, but that’s less likely to happen if you stop pushing him away.”

Zarkon raises an eyebrow, his eyes flickering to Keith. “Why does this matter to you so much?”

“Because I never had a mother and I lost my father when I was six, and ever since that day I never had a good relationship with a caretaker. It was horrible, and I know it was partly my fault for always being so difficult, but nobody ever gave me a chance to settle, and I stopped trying to learn to trust that anyone would want me in their lives, and I _can’t”_ — Keith swallows, his eyes burning all of the sudden — “I can’t deal with seeing the same thing happen again.”

Zarkon takes Keith’s hand, warmth seeping through his cold skin.

“When Zykov sent his people after me Lotor came for me and he stood in front of dozens of people and told them that if they touched me they’d be considered traitors to the Empire, and he didn’t have to do that. He could’ve let me to die or send someone else to deal with it, but he came to help me because he knows I matter to you. We didn’t even know you’d ever recover and he still came to help me, and you can’t even say thank you?” Keith stands and marches to the couch, his appetite gone.

“Keith?”

“I’m not hungry.”

Zarkon stands and follows Keith to the couch, his movements slower than they should be, his breathing getting a heavy edge to it as he stops before Keith. “ _Ichkya._ ”

Keith meets Zarkon’s eyes, his anger dissipating. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to fight today.”

Zarkon kneels on the floor and wraps his arms around Keith’s waist, and buries his face in Keith’s lap. Putting his arms around Zarkon is the easiest thing Keith has done in months.

“Would you be happier if I thanked him?” Zarkon asks after a moment.

Keith swallows and smiles shakily. “You don’t have to, just... be kinder to him. At least try, okay?”

“As you wish.” Zarkon lifts his head and — to Keith’s pleasant surprise — grabs Keith by the neck and pulls him into a heated kiss.

Keith’s missed the taste of Zarkon on his tongue, the feel of him filling Keith’s senses until nothing but Zarkon exists.

When Zarkon pulls away, Keith keeps his eyes closed, letting the sensation of the kiss linger for a moment longer.

“I am tired,” Zarkon says, his voice quiet. “Come to bed, kito. I have not been able to sleep well without you by my side, where you belong.”

A small noise escapes Keith’s lips, and he inclines his head. “Of course.”

Keith helps Zarkon to the bed, anger flaring in his heart when he sees the scar Allura had left on his skin as Zarkon takes his heavy coats off. Keith forces the anger away for now, and curls by Zarkon’s side, sighing when Zarkon pulls him close. He drifts to sleep in a matter of minutes, and he sleeps better than he has in months.

 

* * *

 

It takes two days for Keith to remember he’s supposed to spend time with Shiro and the others as well. He’d received his old clothes that morning, and while Zarkon sleeps — something he does a lot these days — Keith strides through the hallways in his old boots, wearing his favorite black coat to combat the chilliness of the ship.

Keith intends to spend only a few hours away from Zarkon’s side; he’d rather be there right now, watching Zarkon sleep and enjoying being so close to him, but Keith doesn’t want to be a bad friend, and he’d promised to be with Shiro when Haggar starts fixing his arm. Keith finds Shiro and Hunk in their room, and he invites them to come and find the mess hall with him.

“How you’ve been?” Keith asks as they walk down another hallway. They’d asked the Holts if they wanted to join, but Sam is resting, and neither Matt or Pidge want to leave his side.

“Fine,” Shiro replies. “We’ve been spending time with the Holts whenever we can. Sam’s starting to recover from being imprisoned; he said the Galra made him work too much and he’s been resting a lot.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Keith says.

“He’d be better if we got him off this ship,” Hunk mutters.

Keith turns to him, ready to remind Hunk that Shiro’s arm still needs fixing when an angry shout from behind him makes Keith swirl around, his eyes wide in surprise.

Haala marches towards him, wearing his gray coat with the too big collar instead of armor, a frown on his face and his ears drawn back. “I’m going to kill you!”

Hunk and Shiro take a step back, but Keith moves forward, his ears perking.

“You were supposed to be the nanny lottery victory! Stop being so much trouble!”

“Sorry,” Keith laughs as he waits for Haala to reach him.

“You’re a horrible _thaya_.” Haala declares as he reaches Keith, and he grabs Keith’s shoulders and shakes him violently before pulling him into a crushing hug.

Keith mumbles another apology into Haala’s clothes.

Haala grumbles and pulls Keith further down the hallway and from Shiro and Hunk. Keith waves at them to stay where they are before giving Haala his full attention.

“Have you heard of Thace?” Haala asks, his voice dark.

Keith frowns. “No. I didn’t even know you were onboard. Zarkon’s been... well... we’ve been talking about other stuff.”

Haala sighs, turning more serious than Keith has ever seen him. “Thace has been imprisoned — for being a member of the Blade of Marmora.”

Keith blinks, then groans. “For fuck’s sake.”

“You knew?”

Keith hadn’t expected this, and he’s not sure if he should admit he’s the one who brought Thace’s loyalties to the Blade into the Empire’s attention in the first place. He inclines his head reluctantly. “I found out when he grabbed me to hand me over to Voltron. I then proceeded to try to beat the ever living shit out of him during some Blade event — well, he broke my arm, but I tried.”

Haala’s ears droop. “I don’t know what to do. Marzi keeps telling me it’ll be fine, but... I haven’t even been allowed to call my father.”

“I’ll talk to Zarkon,” Keith promises. “Do you know where Thace is now?”

Haala shakes his head.

“Do you know where Marzi is?”

“She’s threatening that friend of yours for information or something. The officer?”

Keith frowns. “Gailek?”

“Yeah. Our entire crew is in lockdown. We’re not allowed to have contact outside and while we can spend time together, we’re being monitored.” Haala crosses his arms, then nudges Keith’s toes with his own. “We were worried about you.”

“I was worried about you too,” Keith replies. “I’m sorry I didn’t get the quintessence to you.”

Haala shrugs. “You got kidnapped, I suppose that’s a good enough excuse.” He nods towards Shiro and Hunk. “Friends of yours?”

Keith glances at them and waves his hand. Shiro waves his hand back. “Yeah.”

Haala shifts. “Aren’t you going to introduce me?”

It’s a blatant attempt at changing the subject, and Keith accepts it. “Sure.” He waves Hunk and Shiro to join them, and they do so hesitantly.

“Shiro, my oldest friend, and this is Hunk, also a friend” — Keith points at them, then waves at Haala — “Haala. He was my personal guard when I got here.”

“And now the designated older brother so I can legally beat you up if you mess with him.” Haala nudges his chin in Keith’s direction and glares at Shiro and Hunk.

“Don’t you mean you can have Marzila beat them up?” Keith asks.

“On this occasion, no. I’ll do the beating myself,” Haala replies. “Unless they give me too much trouble.”

Keith laughs and bumps his forehead against Haala’s arm.

Neither Hunk nor Shiro seem able to do more than stare at Haala with wide eyes, but after a moment Shiro clears his throat and extends his hand to Haala. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Haala’s ears draw back and he doesn’t take Shiro’s hand. After a moment Shiro drops his hand, glancing at Keith hesitantly.

“He’s harmless, he just lives in a constant state of grumpiness,” Keith assures them, then smiles at Hunk. “He’s an engineer.”

Hunk’s eyes flicker to Haala, curiosity passing through them.

Keith turns to Haala. “Hunk’s our mechanic. He’s really good at it, too.”

Haala gives Hunk a dubious once over. “If you say so.”

“We’re looking for the mess hall,” Keith tells Haala, the question of where they’re supposed to go hanging in the air.

“You’re on the wrong floor.” Haala pushes past Shiro and heads down the hallway. Keith hurries after him, and Hunk and Shiro follow them.

Keith throws Shiro a look over his shoulder and offers him a smile. Shiro returns it, even if he’s a little tense in Haala’s company. Keith won’t make a big deal out of it as long as they’ll get along; Shiro has a good reason to be uncomfortable around the Galra, and Haala isn’t the most easily approachable person around, after all.

 

* * *

 

The mess hall is empty save for their small group, and it gives Shiro an opportunity to study Haala more closely. Keith’s affection for him is obvious and it makes being around Haala mildly easier. Haala’s declaration of being Keith’s older brother makes it clear the affection is mutual.

Haala complains about ‘druid food’ and Keith laughs.

Every now and again, Shiro and Hunk inject comments into the conversation. They’re considering trying out desserts when a druid enters the room, heading straight to them. “The High Priestess is ready to start working on your prosthetic now.”

The air turns freezing around Shiro and he can’t speak.

“We’ll be there in a moment,” Keith says, offering Shiro a reassuring smile.

The druid turns and leaves without another word.

“We should tell Pidge what’s going on,” Hunk says, turning his attention to Shiro. “She wanted to see what Haggar does to your arm.”

Shiro nods. “We’ll have to go by their room.”

“Or Haala could bring her to the labs,” Keith suggests, earning himself a hard shove from Haala.

“I’m not an escort.”

“But you’re so good at it.” Keith dodges the next shove. “Please? I have to take Shiro to Haggar and she won’t be happy if we keep her waiting too long.”

“Fine,” Haala grumbles. “But just this once.”

As soon as they’re done with their lunch they stand, and Keith and Hunk take their trays away while Haala goes to fetch Pidge. Shiro stays at the table, needing the moment alone to calm down.

After Keith and Hunk return, Keith leads them out of the mess hall and into Haggar’s laboratories. There are druids milling about and Keith guides Shiro and Hunk to stand at the edges of the room, then tells them to wait while he finds Haggar.

Moments later, Haala appears with Pidge in tow. She beelines to Shiro while Haala disappears from the doorway.

“Matt’s staying with dad. They were thinking about coming too, but dad got... he’s better off not coming near the druids,” Pidge says.

“We’ll get him to the Castleship as soon as possible,” Shiro assures her.

Before Pidge can respond, Keith returns. He offers Pidge a hello that she returns, then takes them to where Haggar is setting up a workstation by an operating table. Haggar waves Shiro to get on the table, and the only reason Shiro doesn’t run is Keith’s fingers wrapped around his wrist.

Once Shiro is settled on the table, Haggar turns to him. “We will apply a local anesthetic so that we can better monitor you. Strip.”

Shiro glances at Keith who nods, staying by Shiro’s side the whole time. Hunk and Pidge hover near them, observing Haggar closely.

Once Shiro has shed his shirt, Haggar administers the anesthetic and returns to her monitors. Shiro touches Keith’s shoulder and Keith turns to him, then he takes Shiro’s hand and squeezes it, and Shiro breathes a little easier.

After a moment Haggar joins them, but Shiro does his best to ignore her for as long as possible, even when she applies the anesthetic and starts pressing her fingers and nails into Shiro’s arm shoulder, as if she’s looking for something.

“What the hell?” Hunk glares at Shiro — his shoulder, to be exact.

Shiro glances down, jolting when he sees the needle embedded in his arm.

“We can start,” Haggar says as she pulls the needle from Shiro’s arm. “Lie down.”

After glancing at Keith for confirmation, Shiro lies down, taking a deep breath and holding it in for a few seconds. Haggar sets a bright light above Shiro’s arm and starts poking at it with thin instruments.

Shiro drags his eyes from what Haggar is doing to Keith.

Looking at Keith is easier, Shiro might feel what Haggar is doing — a dull, tugging and prodding sensation where his flesh becomes metal — but seeing Keith keeps him grounded. As long as he sees Keith, he knows he hasn’t dreamed escaping and Voltron and everything that’s happened to him in the past two years.

Has it really been two years already? Shiro is about to ask Keith if he’s realized how long they’ve been in space when Keith’s attention snaps to the doors to the laboratory, his ears perking up.

Seconds later, Zarkon walks through the doors and heads straight towards them. He still looks worn out and unhealthy, and he’s still not in his armor. Keith leaves Shiro’s side, but he disappears somewhere into the room instead of going to Zarkon.

Hunk and Pidge eye Zarkon as he approaches, and they make a point of staying by Shiro’s side as he’s helpless to do more than lie on the cold table while Haggar tinkers with his arm.

Zarkon comes to hover over Haggar’s shoulder. “Is that important?”

“No,” Haggar replies without looking up. “But I have the time to spare at the moment.”

“She promised to fix it,” Keith says as he returns, carrying a chair. “I talked to Haala.”

Going by Keith’s pointed tone, Shiro expects a reaction out of Zarkon, but he’s unfazed by Keith’s tone.

Keith sets the chair down, then crosses his arms. “Am I gonna be mad? I can always bunk with Shiro if I need to.”

 _“_ And I can always eject him out of an airlock and see how long he can survive the vacuum of space,” Zarkon counters, turning his attention from what Haggar is doing to Keith.

Shiro tenses and Hunk and Pidge move closer to Shiro, even if it puts them closer to Haggar as well. Keith huffs and picks the chair up again, then circles the table, offering Shiro a brief smile as he goes. Keith presents the chair to Zarkon, and Zarkon accepts the seat without complaint.

Keith turns to Shiro, a smile tugging at his lips. “He just feels a little threatened because the Black Lion likes you.”

“I am not threatened by some lowly peasant from a backwater planet no one has never heard of, and who is not fit to lead Voltron,” Zarkon states.

If Shiro wasn’t so shocked, he might be offended. Hunk and Pidge appear dumbfounded and even Keith stares at Zarkon, his expression a mix of amusement and disbelief.

“Did you just use peasant as an insult?” Keith huffs a laugh. “Seriously? That’s what you’re gonna go with? _Peasant_?”

Zarkon scowls, just for a second. “He is a nobody.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “Well, that lowly peasant is my commanding officer, so what does that make me, then?”

“The only thing that shows is that their people have an imperfect command structure,” Zarkon replies.

Keith laughs and shakes his head, and leans down to nuzzle Zarkon’s cheek, then Keith sits on his lap. “You’re adorable.”

Zarkon narrows his eyes, but doesn’t reply. Shiro would argue with Keith if he dared to, and so would Hunk and Pidge if their expressions are anything to go by. They glance at Shiro, and Shiro shakes his head minutely.

Haggar tugs at Shiro’s arm and suddenly Shiro can’t feel his fingers, then the rest of his arm loses sensation as well. She stands and shows Shiro his now detached arm, a gleeful gleam in her eyes. Shiro stares at the arm in shoc, not knowing how to feel about or even how to process what he’s seeing.

“Wait here while we deal with this,” Haggar orders and walks away before Shiro can regain enough of his composure to demand to know why she detached his arm.

“What are you going to do with that?” Hunk asks as he follows Haggar, who stops and turns to glare at Hunk.

“He’s a mechanic so he’s curious,” Keith explains hastily.

“Explaining everything would take too much time,” Haggar tells Hunk and walks away. After a second, Hunk follows her.

“Zarkon?” Keith turns to Zarkon, his eyes wide and just a little too bright.

Zarkon turns to Haggar. “Tell him the basics of  what you are doing.”

Haggar stills, and it takes her just a second too long to turn around and bow. “Of course, my Lord.”

“Are you cold?” Pidge asks Shiro when Haggar continues on her way, with Hunk in tow. Pidge’s eyes keep flickering to Keith and Zarkon.

“A little, but it’s nothing I can’t handle,” Shiro replies as he sits up, feeling unbalanced without his arm.

“There are blankets in the back,” Keith says, pointing at the right direction. “Just ask someone there to give you one.”

Pidge nods and — putting on a brave face — heads to the direction Keith indicated.

Keith takes a sharp breath and turns to Zarkon. “Did I tell you about what happened when they ran into the people who’ve been attacking everyone?”

“Not that I recall.”

Keith smiles. “Black ditched Shiro on the planet to come back to the Castleship. Then she expected me to go with her.”

While Shiro frowns at Keith., Zarkon quirks an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. “Did you go with it?”

“No, I told her to fuck off.”

All joy drains from Zarkon’s expression. “I beg your pardon?”

Keith shrugs. “She wouldn’t bring me back to you, so she doesn’t get to expect me to help her when she wants it.”

“You could’ve helped us but you were too petty to do that?” Pidge’s incredulous voice makes Shiro turn around. She’s clutching a blanket, her hurt eyes fixed on Keith. “Thanks.”

Keith has the sense to look chastised, but Zarkon narrows his eyes at Pidge.

“It’s fine,” Shiro hurries to say. “And it was good that Keith didn’t bring another Lion into the mess.”

The warning look Shiro gives Pidge keeps her from replying, and she tosses the blanket to Shiro with an annoyed frown on her face.

Keith bites his lip and leans more heavily against Zarkon, and Zarkon wraps his arms around him. Keith sighs and relaxes against Zarkon’s chest, closing his eyes, a small smile on his lips.

Shiro pulls the blanket around his shoulders the best he can and looks around the room, pretending that seeing Keith so comfortable with Zarkon doesn’t hurt. It doesn’t feel right, but Shiro doesn’t want to ruin Keith’s happiness by saying something. Instead he turns to Pidge, offering her a weak smile. She moves closer to him, and they chat quietly while they wait for Haggar to return with Shiro’s arm.

Keith leaves with Zarkon before that happens.

 

* * *

 

Keith breathes easier after Zarkon assures him that Thace is only imprisoned and not hurt — badly. There was an interrogation conducted by druids that Thace hadn’t escaped entirely unharmed, but Zarkon assures Keith that he didn’t allow permanent damage done to Thace, but only because he was unsure how Keith would react to it.

In a way, Keith is a little touched that Zarkon had taken his feelings into consideration when passing judgment on a Blade operative.

“There is another thing I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Keith starts, not quite meeting Zarkon’s eyes.

“What is it?”

Keith bites his lip, his tail thumping against the couch he’s sitting on with Zarkon. When he stays silent for too long, Zarkon looks up from his book, quirking an eyebrow.

Deciding to get it over with despite Haggar telling him not to stress Zarkon — he’ll just call the whole thing off if he even suspects Zarkon is getting upset — Keith sits straighter, his jaw set in determination. “Shiro and I have been talking about, um, about our feelings and — I don’t want to leave you, I’d never do that, and if you don’t want to talk about this right now I’ll understand and we can forget about it.”

Zarkon’s eyebrow raises higher, and he closes his book, expecting Keith to continue.

Keith takes a deep breath. “I told you I have feelings for Shiro, and turns out he’s got feelings for me, and since the Galra are polyamorous I was thinking I could... I want to see if we could have a something, but I don’t want to do that if you’re not okay with it, so I thought I’d ask.”

Zarkon stares at him, his expression unreadable. Keith can’t even sense his emotions through the bond. Eventually he sighs, his gaze flickering away from Keith. “What you do in your free time is not my business.”

It’s not acceptance or denial and it’s so unlike Zarkon, and Keith isn’t sure how to deal with it. “You’d be okay with me hooking up with Shiro?”

Zarkon picks at the corner of his book without meeting Keith’s eyes. The bond remains disturbingly quiet. “I am uncertain of what you wish me to say.”

“I want your opinion.”

Zarkon tilts his head. “My opinion is, that you are free to do as you want.”

Keith frowns. “That’s not an opinion. I don’t want to hurt you by having another relationship and — “

“Do you want me to say no?”

The question stops Keith in his tracks. The obvious answer is no, of course not, but... does he? He’d loved kissing Shiro, up until the point he’d hated it. He’d waited for Shiro to tell him he loved him, and when that had happened Keith had pushed him away. When Shiro hadn’t outright denied the idea of a polyamorous relationship, Keith had been the one to put the breaks on and say they should drop it. Every time Shiro says yes, Keith says no, and when Shiro says no, Keith gets upset.

“I don’t know.” Keith sighs, his ears drooping as he casts his eyes to his lap. “I’ve wanted a relationship with him for years, and I’ve had a crush on him longer. I love him, I do, but... it’s everything I wanted before you and I don’t know why I... maybe... what if it won’t work?”

“It will not,” Zarkon says, without any malice in his voice.

Keith looks up. “How would you know that?”

Zarkon’s expression softens. “We are bonded on a much deeper level than anyone else is, and that bond will never go away. I know you, I know your thoughts, your emotions — even the ones you are unaware of — and I doubt you would be waiting for me to tell you no if you truly wanted a relationship with him, you would accept what I have given you and be happy with it.”

Keith looks away, his ears drawing back. Zarkon sighs, setting his book on the arm of the couch before turning fully to Keith. “I am not going to tell you no because if I do, you will grow upset about it over time and I do not want that, but I can put some ground rules in place if you want.”

Saying no should be easy, but instead Keith bites his lip and nods minutely.

For a moment, Zarkon doesn’t say anything. “He will not leave a single mark on you,” he says eventually, and Keith nods and shifts so that he can better face Zarkon. “I do not want him in my space, which means he will not set foot in our quarters without a pressing reason, and even then only if he stays by the door. I want you to check in with me if you intend to spend the night with him.”

Keith relaxes slightly, especially when the bond fills with the assurance that the rule is in place simply to give Keith an easy way out should he need one.

 _“_ I do not want you to come into our bed smelling like him.” Zarkon frowns. “I would prefer you not to walk around smelling like other people at all.”

Keith laughs quietly. “I’ll make a habit of showering.”

Zarkon inclines his head. “Do you require more?”

 _“_ No, not — not right now.” Keith sighs, feeling easier about his relationship with Shiro now than he has since Shiro told him he loved him. “Thanks.”

 _“_ You are mine,” Zarkon replies, saying it like it’s a simple fact. “I want you to be happy.”

Keith kisses Zarkon, and Zarkon returns the kiss, laughing softly against Keith’s lips. Zarkon pulls away, then nuzzles Keith’s jaw. Keith obediently tilts his head back, holding his breath until Zarkon bites his neck gently. Keith moans and pulls Zarkon down until he’s lying on top of Keith, pressing him into the couch.

Keith pushes his coat from his shoulders and Zarkon pulls his shirt down until he can kiss the faded scar on his shoulder. Keith’s breath hitches, and when Zarkon bites him hard enough to draw blood he cries out and pulls Zarkon closer.

Heat rushes through Keith’s veins and pools in the pit of his stomach, and he can’t understand why they didn’t do this the moment he came back.

“Wait, hold on.” Keith pushes at Zarkon’s shoulder, already hating himself for doing this.

Zarkon frowns. “What?”

“You’re hurt, remember?”

Zarkon sighs and sits up. “I do not see how that is relevant.”

Keith sits up as well. “Haggar told me not to strain you.”

“You want to bring her into this?” Zarkon lifts a pointed eyebrow.

Keith groans and runs his hands across his face. “No, but I don’t want to hurt you, even accidentally. Just... I can wait until you’re better.”

Despite not looking happy, Zarkon inclines his head. “Alright.”

Keith nods and stands, straightening his clothes. “I promised Shiro I’d be there when Haggar fixes his arm, so I’m gonna check on him and see if Haggar’s attaching the arm today, and then I’ll be right back.”

“Bring tea when you come,” Zarkon says. Keith inclines his head before heading out of the door.

Once in the laboratory, Keith offers Hunk a brief hello, then tells Haggar he’d like to know her timetable for fixing Shiro’s arm and have a word with her when she has the time before joining Shiro and Pidge. They eye him critically enough for Keith to realize how he must look with his coat hanging open, showing the bruises Zarkon had just left on his skin and the blood still dripping from the bite mark.

Heat rises up Keith’s face as he hurries to get a strip of gauze to press against the bite mark and to fasten his coat. When he returns, he does his best to ignore the sour looks on Pidge’s face, and the way Shiro doesn’t quite meet his eyes.

He hopes Haggar can spare him a minute soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll try to get more than one chapter out next week. I've got more free time than I did this week so it shouldn't be hard.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's Christmas gift number three! Enjoy!

_ Rules. _

Shiro has little understanding of how a relationship involving three people ought to work, but he doubts it should involve one party dictating all the rules of the relationship. It’s wrong; Zarkon has no right to order Keith around or tell him what kind of a relationship he’s allowed to have with anyone.

“So... basically what you’re saying is that if we want to do anything, you have to get his permission for it?” Shiro frowns.

“No. Yes. Look” — Keith sighs and closes his eyes for a second — “Zarkon’s a bit possessive, and he just got me back so he’s on overdrive. He’ll relax once he’s sure I’m not gonna disappear again.”

Shiro doesn’t believe it, he doesn’t believe Zarkon will ever be comfortable with sharing Keith or anything else; anyone who has cultivated an empire the likes of the one Zarkon has isn’t the kind of person who shares. That kind of people take and take until there’s nothing left, and then move on to take from another source.

“Keith?”

“What?”

“I don’t like this,” Shiro admits quietly.

Keith crosses his arms and looks away. “Then we won’t do this. Zarkon didn’t tell me once that I couldn’t have a relationship with you or that he objected to this, so if he tells me what makes him comfortable, I’m not gonna be telling him no.”

“I thought we were supposed to sit down and talk. All of us, not just you two,” Shiro points out. He’d cross his arms as well if he had two of them, but Haggar had stated his arm needed more repairs, and that she had more important things to attend to at that time.

So Shiro had been dismissed, and for the first time, he’s truly experiencing life without an arm. Sure, he’s been without his arm before, but he was always either strapped down or moved under supervision, so he hasn’t really  _ done _ things without both of his arms before. Just putting his shirt on had been an experience. 

Keith frowns. “We will, but at least now we know we’re gonna come to that table with the intention of making this work, right?”

“I guess so,” Shiro sighs, then — deciding that a change of subject is in order — he smiles. “Could I ask for a favor?”

“Sure.”

Shiro waves at his missing arm. “I was hoping to get dinner, but with one arm...”

“Of course I’ll help.” Keith steps to Shiro’s side and takes his hand. “Lets go.”

They don’t ask anyone else if they’d like to join them in the mess hall, and they enjoy a nice meal without interruptions for a change, though Shiro has to take an extra minute to figure out how to cut the meat with only one hand.

The dinner leaves them both in a good mood, and Keith walks with Shiro back to Shiro’s room, hugging Shiro when they get there. Shiro holds Keith as tightly as he can with one arm, and Keith holds him back just as tightly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Shiro hates it comes out as a question.

Keith pulls back, and inclines his head. “Sure. Lunch?”

Shiro nods. “I’d like that. You could finally say hi to Sam too.”

“I don’t know.” Keith’s ears draw back. “I mean, I look like a Galra. I don’t want to make him uncomfortable.”

“You won’t,” Shiro assures him. “I explained your situation to him — as unbiasedly as I could, don’t worry — and he understood. He’d like to meet you.”

Keith sighs, but nods. “Okay. I’ll find the time at some point. I have to go now, I promised Zarkon tea.”

Shiro nods. “Go get your tea, then.”

Just as Shiro had hoped, Keith smiles, happy and bright. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow,” Shiro agrees, opening the door to his room, but not stepping in.

Keith waves his hand and Shiro does the same. He watches Keith walk away, unsure of what’s going to happen between them, but hoping things turn out okay.

Shiro enters the room, surprised to see Hunk back from the Holts’ room.

“Where were you?” Hunk asks.

“With Keith,” Shiro replies and starts the long process of taking the top layer of his clothes off — the ship might not be as hot as a Galran ship typically is, but the temperature is still just a little too high for Shiro’s liking. Hunk remains silent while Shiro struggles with his clothes — he’d offered to help the day before but Shiro had declined, and Hunk hasn’t asked again — but as soon as Shiro is done, Hunk clears his throat. 

“Did you ask him about the bayard?” Hunk lifts a pointed eyebrow when Shiro grimaces. “I take that as a no.”

“I don’t want to fight with him,” Shiro replies. “Not here. I don’t think it’d be safe.”

“What do you mean?”

Shiro huffs and slumps on the edge of his bed,  running his hand through his hair. “I don’t know. I just… with Zarkon around, I don’t think upsetting Keith would be safe, and trust me, when I bring the bayard up, he’ll get upset. I’d rather go through that far away from Zarkon.”

“You think he actually cares about Keith?” Hunk sounds disbelieving, and Shiro can’t blame him.

“I don’t know if he cares about Keith as anything but a possession he has and we don’t, but I think he’ll take any excuse to hurt us, and Keith getting upset would be a pretty good excuse.” Shiro sighs. “We need to be careful.”

Hunk doesn’t look happy about it, but he doesn’t argue with Shiro either.

 

* * *

The dim lights of the bedroom are familiar and strange at the same time; it’s the same, soft purple light of Zarkon’s quarters in the Central Command and Cenzi’s ship, but the lights come from the wrong places. In the Galra ships, the light comes from low, near the floor from the LED-light like lines running around the room. It’s not like the day lights, it won’t bother Zarkon, and it doesn’t bother Keith once he falls asleep; it just illuminates the room enough for Keith to be comfortable.

Here, the lights come from higher, from small, round laps embedded in the walls. They’re harder to ignore.

Keith rolls around and buries his face in Zarkon’s chest.

Even in his sleep, Zarkon wraps his arms around Keith, and the warmth his touch spreads makes the coldness of his skin easier to ignore. Keith worries about it; he can’t shake what Coran had said, about when Zarkon had come back.

_ Why is he so cold? _

Zarkon shifts and Keith forces himself to not worry so much. He leans up to press a kiss on the corner of Zarkon’s mouth before getting up. There’s no point in him staying in bed if he can’t sleep; he’ll just end up waking Zarkon up, and Zarkon needs his rest.

Zarkon doesn’t wake up; he doesn’t even stir, and Keith pretends it’s because Zarkon is so used to the sounds Keith makes that he doesn’t react to them anymore, and not because he’s hurt.

After putting on clothes, Keith heads towards the laboratories, hoping someone there will have something for his bout of insomnia.

The ship is eerily quiet in the night. There’s not even the low hum of the engines present. Keith walks a little faster and pulls his coat a little tighter around himself. He reaches the laboratories soon, and for a moment he’s surprised for the lack of druids there. Though they are still there, but there are so few of them it takes Keith a moment to even spot them.

Keith walks deeper into the laboratory, trying to spot someone who doesn’t seem to be too deep in work. To his surprise Haggar is still there, and Keith beelines to her, clearing his throat as he approaches.

“What do you want?” Haggar asks without taking her eyes off her computer screen.

“I can’t sleep, and I was wondering if you’ve got something for it.”

Haggar stands. “I’ll get you a mild sedative.”

While Haggar goes off to get the sedative, Keith stays where he is. His eyes drift to Haggar’s research even though he can’t understand it, but what’s on the computer screen isn’t actually research, but a report of some incident that had happened. Keith averts his eyes; Haggar won’t appreciate him snooping, and he can always ask Zarkon about it.

Haggar returns moments later and hands Keith a cup of tea. Keith frowns even as he accepts it. “I thought you said sedative.”

“That has sedative effects,” Haggar replies.

Keith glances around, finding the nearest chair that he can pull up to Haggar’s desk. He sits and takes a cautious sip of the tea; it’s bitter, but not overly so and a taste like ginger and apples lingers in Keith’s mouth. He decides to let the tea cool just a bit, as it is just a little too hot for his mouth.

“Did you see the ships that attacked the Castle of Lions?” Haggar asks after a minute of comfortable silence.

Keith blows the steam off his tea. “Shiro and Hunk saw them. They got attacked by someone a few weeks ago, and they said that the person used similar magic to Allura’s. They said their ships were cloaked, that they looked like... oil stains in the sky.” Keith sips his tea, frowning slightly. “Whoever they are, they could drain the Lions and the Castleship. We don’t know  _ who _ they are, just that they’ve been attacking the Empire, and now the Rebellion and Voltron as well.”

Haggar hums thoughtfully, scowling at her computer screen. “They have been a problem for us for centuries.”

“Really?” Keith’s eyebrows shoot up, and he sits straighter.

“It was minor incidents at first, attacks here and there, often months or years apart. At first, we were able to fend them off with no difficulty, but as time progressed, each attack got harder to deal with — “

“Like they were adapting? Studying you?” Keith’s blood runs cold at the thought, and he clutches the warm tea cup harder.

Haggar inclines her head, her expression grim. “The attacks have become more frequent, nearly weekly.”

“And now they’re coming for Voltron too.”

“That is not all.” Haggar shifts, allowing Keith to look at her screen. “As the attacks grow more frequent, micro-rifts have become a more frequent phenomena as well — rifts in the fabric of the universe, too small to see, but we have been studying them for long enough to monitor and find them. There was a time when we could go years without finding one, now we find them monthly.”

“Is that bad?”

“For the universe? Yes. The rifts are unpredictable and dangerous, and tears in the fabric of reality are never good. But we can harvest a rare, special kind of quintessence we can utilize. We are using it to treat Zarkon, at the moment.” Haggar falls silent, seeming lost in thought.

“Vazka said there’s someone behind the rift that would take Zarkon’s place,” Keith says quietly.

“No one is taking his place,” Haggar replies, her voice so sure it’s easy for Keith to believe her. Haggar turns to her computer again. “Finish your tea and go back to bed, we can talk more later.”

Keith nods and does as he’s told. He doesn’t expect to fall asleep after the conversation he just had with Haggar, but as he curls against Zarkon’s side and Zarkon puts his arms around him, Keith finds himself drifting to sleep.

 

* * *

It takes Haggar three days to fix Shiro’s arm, and when she’s ready to reattach it to him, she injects him with something that makes him numb all over and unable to move his limbs. Keith holds Shiro’s hand the whole time, and Hunk observes Haggar’s work closely.

Pidge had opted to stay with her family, but they’re all supposed to meet up later for tea in the small conference room Keith had discovered. They can meet there without having to worry about druids walking in on them so that they don’t have to cram themselves in the one of the rooms Haggar had assigned the Holts, Hunk and Shiro.

Keith arranges for the tea and snacks with Shiro’s help — now that he has two working arms he’s taking full advantage of it — while Hunk enlists Kiira to walk the Holts from their room to the conference room.

Shiro stays by Keith’s side when the rest of their friends enter the room. Sam’s eyes land on Keith, and there’s a second where he looks scared and ready to run, but it passes and he approaches Keith, albeit cautiously. “You got taller.”

Surprise flashes through Keith’s eyes, and Shiro doesn’t blame him: Sam had met Keith only a few times, and never for long enough for them to become truly acquainted.

Keith’s ears twitch and he smiles. Sam offers Keith his hand and Keith shakes it briefly.

They sit at the table and chat about menial things, avoiding the topics that involve the Galra and the war the best they can. Sam grows easier around Keith as time passes, and Keith relaxes as well.

“Zarkon and I were thinking” — Keith bites his lip and taps his claws against his tea cup — “do you want to have dinner with us tomorrow?”

Shiro glances at the others, the good mood surrounding them dissipating rapidly.

“Why would we want to go anywhere near Zarkon?” Matt asks.

“Because he asked if you’d have dinner with us, and him asking is him trying to be nice and letting you pretend you have a choice when he could just force you to do what he wants,” Keith replies.

It silences everyone, and they exchange uncomfortable looks.

Shiro sighs. “I guess we’ll be coming to dinner then.”

Keith nods. “Good. I’d suggest you shower and put on clean clothes. Galra sense of smell is really strong and while I’m used to it, Zarkon is prone to complain about it. It’ll be best for all of us if you take that into consideration.”

“Yeah, we’ll do that,” Pidge says. “We wouldn’t want to offed him with our smell.”

Shiro throws her a warning look, but Keith ignores her, though his shoulders tense at her words.

“Why would he want to have dinner with us?” Hunk asks.

“Because you’re my friends, and he’s trying to be nice,” Keith replies. “He wants me to be happy, and I’ll be happy if you guys can get along.”

“Don’t count on it,” Pidge mutters.

Keith’s ears draw back, and he pulls out his pad, turning it on briefly before standing. “I promised Marzila and Haala I’d go spend time with them too. They’re already waiting for me, so I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”

Keith heads for the door and Shiro hurries after him, stopping Keith in the quiet hallway. “You have to understand why they’re not exactly happy about the idea of having dinner with Zarkon.”

“I do,” Keith replies. “But I’d like for the people who say they’re my friends to at least try to be civil, if nothing else.”

Frustration emanates from Keith, and Shiro pulls him towards his and Hunk’s room, knowing that arguing with Keith is not smart but needing to get his point across. Once there, he keeps himself firmly between Keith and the door. “You can’t expect them to want to be anywhere near Zarkon after what he did to Sam.”

Keith scoffs. “Zarkon didn’t do anything to him. The only reason he even knows who Sam  _ is _ is because his son escaped prison to join the Rebellion and his daughter is a Paladin, and his only concern then was to keep Pidge and Matt from finding Sam. Beyond that, he just doesn’t care.”

“Is that supposed to make Sam feel better?”

“No, that’s not what I’m saying and you know it. I’m just... I don’t want to talk about this right now.” Keith tries to step around Shiro, but he grabs Keith’s arm and pulls him back.

“You’re making excuses for him. Sam was tortured —  _ I _ was tortured — under Zarkon’s watch, and you’re making excuses for him.”

Keith doesn’t meet Shiro’s eyes. “Let me go.”

Shiro holds his arm tighter. “I love you, I do, but I don’t understand how you can do something that. The Keith I know would never do that. The Keith I know wouldn’t have stolen a bayard from his friends to give to Zarkon of all people.”

Keith doesn’t reply. He frowns at the wall, his lips pressed in a stubborn line. A second passes, then half a minute, and the silence keeps stretching, becoming impossible to break.

Without warning, Haggar opens the door and shoves Shiro aside so that she can yank Keith out of the room.

“Hey!” Shiro hurries after them. “You can’t just — “

Haggar swirls around and glares at Shiro. “You have done enough.”

Shiro has no idea what she means, and before he can ask Zarkon approaches them, no doubt there for Keith. Except he strides past Keith and towards Shiro, fury burning in his eyes. Shiro stumbles back until he hits the wall, impossible realization dawning on him.

_ He knows what just happened. How does he know what just happened? _

Zarkon strikes Shiro’s shoulder, and pain flares through his body. He can’t move his arm. He tries, but mechanical as it may be, it still relies on Shiro being able to have a working shoulder to move.

Before Shiro can do more than draw in a sharp breath, Zarkon grabs him by his throat and lifts him off the ground, and slams Shiro to the wall with force that makes Shiro see stars. His vision blurs and he can’t breathe. His lungs burn and his back and head hurt, but he barely registers it through the haze clouding his mind.

Somewhere far away, Keith is saying something, his voice frantic.

Shiro falls to the floor and he gasps for breath. His throat hurts and his lungs can barely handle the air he tries to draw into them.

The edges of his vision are dark, but his eyes still find Keith, speaking too quietly for Shiro to make out — or maybe it’s the buzzing in his ears keeping him from hearing anything. Zarkon is cupping Keith’s face, gentle even in Shiro’s eyes. When they press their foreheads together Keith smiles minutely and Zarkon closes his eyes.

Keith kisses Zarkon ( _ hadn’t Keith said that among the Galra that’s something only mated couples do? _ ) and when Keith pulls away Zarkon presses his face in the crook of Keith’s neck for a few seconds before straightening up. Keith smiles at him for a moment, then pulls away from Zarkon and hurries to Shiro’s side.

“Are you okay?”

Shiro tries to talk, but he can’t get more than a raspy voice out, so he nods instead. He’ll live. Shiro’s eyes flicker past Keith’s concerned expression to Zarkon keeping a close eye on them.

How had he known? No one had seen them enter the room and Keith hadn’t called him, so  _ how had he known? _

Keith’s fingers brush against the tender skin of Shiro’s neck, and Shiro hisses. Keith purses his lips. “You need medical attention.” Keith turns to Haggar, who joins their side and helps Keith pull Shiro off the ground.

“I will see to him,” she promises, directing a pointed look at Keith, who nods.

Shiro has no choice but to let Haggar drag him away. He looks over his shoulder, but Keith’s attention is already on Zarkon, the set of his shoulders angry and his tail flicking from side to side.

_ How had he known? _

 

* * *

After Haggar is done with Shiro and she dismisses him, and he’s allowed to walk to his room on his own — with a reminder that he’s under constant surveillance. Shiro wanders through the hallways, lost in thought and not really looking where he’s going, at least not until he realizes he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. He must have taken a wrong turn at some point.

Shiro curses and turns around, and heads back the way he came. He watches where he’s going more closely this time. Left turn here, a right there, down a long hallway and another right turn to where the elevator is.

A long, black cape disappears into the elevator, and without letting himself think about what he’s doing, Shiro runs. He barely gets his fingers through the elevator doors before they close, and they open again to let Shiro slip in.

The doors close in behind him, leaving Shiro — still out of breath from his sprint — trapped in the elevator with Zarkon. For a moment, they stare at each other, Zarkon’s expression giving nothing away, Shiro — now that he’s not on Haggar’s table or being strangled — taking the opportunity to study Zarkon and decide that he looks wrong out of his armor; almost like a normal person, not some larger than life monster.

Zarkon narrows his eyes.

“I got lost,” Shiro starts, though he’s not sure what he wants to say.

Zarkon quirks an eyebrow. “Do I look like someone who will take you where you need to be?”

Shiro frowns. “No, I was explaining why I’m here — “

“I do not care.”

“  _ —  _ and I was hoping we could have a civil conversation without you insulting me or trying to kill me.”

Zarkon tilts his head. “You are asking a lot.”

Shiro blinks, dumbfounded for a moment, then he shakes it off and lets Zarkon’s attitude pass. “It’s about Keith.”

Zarkon narrows his eyes. “ _ Kacha. _ ”

The elevator stops, and Shiro draws in a slow breath. He may be locked in a small enclosed space with Zarkon, but that doesn’t mean anything bad is going to happen. Even if Zarkon did just try to murder him an hour or so ago.

“Let me make myself clear; you are not going anywhere near Keith again. He is not yours, and if you ever try to keep him against his will again I will tear you apart.”

A chill runs down Shiro’s spine, but he pushes the urge to fight down. He’s doing this for Keith. “Keith and I had a fight, nothing more.”

“I do not care,” Zarkon snaps, stepping closer to Shiro, looming over him. “You upset him, and as far as I am concerned, you deserve to be thrown back into the Arena for that and kept there until the day you die.”

Shiro swallows. After a long few seconds, Zarkon straightens up. “Unfortunately Keith disagreed.”

Shiro takes a step away from the wall. He’s not sure if he believes that Zarkon cares about what Keith thinks, but Keith  _ had _ insisted he had talked Zarkon into delivering more water to one of their enslaved planets, so Shiro supposes Zarkon has a history of humoring Keith every now and again.

“Keith” — Shiro clears his throat — “he cares about you.” Shiro does his best to keep his voice level. Zarkon doesn’t say anything, but he tilts his head just a fraction, and Shiro presses on; “I don’t know why, but he does. He’s also my closest friend, and I’m not going to stand by and watch him get hurt if I can do something about it.”

Zarkon tilts his head, a small frown appearing on his face. “Whatever makes you think he would get hurt?”

Shiro spreads his arms. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you’re enslaving and torturing entire civilizations, and experimenting on people, and forcing them to fight in the Arena for your amusement? I  _ know  _ you did something to him. Keith would never accept that kind of stuff. You’ve done something to make him think he cares for you — I don’t know if you brainwashed him or coerced him but you did something.”

Zarkon stares at him, his expression so dumbfounded it gives Shiro a pause.

Zarkon recovers quickly, but not as fast as Shiro had expected. “I have no desire seeing Keith harmed in any way. I did ensure Keith’s compliance in the beginning of his stay with us as it made things easier for us all, but I assure you no one harmed Keith. I quite enjoy him as he is.” Zarkon smiles briefly when Shiro’s frown deepens. “As for the matter of our relationship, I assure you I have done nothing to pressure or coerce Keith into it.”

Zarkon moves to the control panel, and soon the elevator starts moving up again. “As I told Keith when he first brought the subject up, I prefer a willing partner. Forcing or manipulating someone in such way is despicable and I would never do such a thing.”

The elevator stops and the doors open. Shiro follows Zarkon out, lost in thought. Shiro hadn’t considered that Zarkon might not  _ want _ to manipulate Keith into a relationship, but maybe everyone draws a line somewhere. Or maybe Zarkon is lying.

“I just don’t want to see Keith hurt,” Shiro says, then sighs, changing tactics. “Look, Keith wants us all to get along, right? I’ve watched him struggle with people, and... well. If it makes him happy I’m willing to try to be civil.”

“Keith does not struggle with us,” Zarkon replies. Shiro has noticed that, not that he’d admit it. “And not once in my life have I been accused of poor conduct,” Zarkon adds.

The silent judgment over Shiro hangs in the air.

“Well, then this should be easy,” Shiro mutters, then starts louder; “Keith — “

“Is mine, not yours, and I will care for him. Your concern is noted, but unnecessary.”

Shiro stops in the middle of the hallway. “He’s not a possession!”

Zarkon stops as well, and he turns to Shiro, looking less than happy. “I have never thought of him as such.”

Shiro stares at Zarkon, not believing his ears. He’s just said...

If Shiro were to give Zarkon the benefit of the doubt, he’d suspect it’s some kind of cultural difference, but this is Zarkon, and Shiro isn’t inclined to do that. “Then why are you treating him like one?” He asks instead.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You set rules to dictate how Keith and I are allowed to interact, for start.”

Understanding dawns on Zarkon’s face, then morphs into a mirthless smirk that disappears in a blink of an eye. “Keith did not object.”

“Did you give him a chance to object?”

Zarkon heads down the hallway and Shiro hurries after him. “Keith is free to object, but he did not do so.”

“But — “

“Perhaps this is something you ought to discuss with him.” Zarkon throws a look over his shoulder that tells Shiro he’d better stop pressing. Shiro follows Zarkon silently around a corner, where they run into one of the strange members of the crew — armored from head to toe in dark shades of grays, blues and black, their faces covered by helmets with dark visors.

“You seem to have misplaced this.” Zarkon motions at Shiro, and the guard — Shiro thinks they’re a guard anyways — bows and steps between Shiro and Zarkon.

Zarkon continues on his way without sparing Shiro even a look or a goodbye, and Shiro has to follow the guard back to his room.

 

* * *

Despite the incident with Shiro, Zarkon had insisted Keith go spend time with Haala and Marzila, and Keith had done so grudgingly. His sour mood had dissipated quickly as Haala and Marzila piled cushions, blankets and pillows on the floor of their room and pulled Keith down on them, and held him between them, none of them talking as they enjoy each other’s presence.

It eases Keith’s mind, and eventually the tension leaves his body, but he can’t forget about the incident from before. He’d known that letting Zarkon sense his distress had been a mistake even before Zarkon had reacted, and a part of him regrets doing what he’d done; it had nearly gotten Shiro killed.

But there’s a part of him, a dark, primal part part of him, had been happy. Happy that Zarkon had come to his defense and nearly murdered Shiro for him. It terrifies Keith, and he doesn’t know what to do with it .

After a while Haala tells Keith to stop fidgeting so much, and Keith makes an effort to calm down and settle in, even going so far as to close his eyes.

Later, Keith returns to his and Zarkon’s room where Zarkon is waiting for him. Zarkon still looks sour, but Keith suspects it’s not entirely because of Shiro anymore. He considers asking about it, but Zarkon looks tired and Keith doesn’t want to agitate him further.

“Are you still up for dinner tomorrow?” He asks instead.

Zarkon inclines his head, and motions for Keith to join him on the couch. “Are you sure this is something you want?”

“Yes,” Keith replies without hesitation, and curls on Zarkon’s side. “Just try not to strangle Shiro again.”

“He deserved it,” Zarkon says, and Keith snorts. He knows better than to argue with Zarkon over his protectiveness.

“You seemed distant earlier,” Zarkon says after a while.

It takes Keith a moment to realize what Zarkon means. “Haala and Marzi built a pillow nest. I guess I dozed off for a while.”

Zarkon runs his claws down Keith’s neck, and Keith shivers. “Would you like to go to bed early?”

Keith nods and closes his eyes, leaning on Zarkon’s side. “Yeah, I think that’s a good idea.” Keith says it not only because the day has left him tired, but because he can feel the exhaustion radiating from Zarkon.

Zarkon presses a kiss on top of Keith’s head, and Keith smiles. “Love you too.”

Warmth and affection fills Keith’s mind and he closes his eyes. He doesn’t mind that Zarkon doesn’t tell him he loves him as well; he can feel it through the bond well enough.

 

* * *

 

It takes Keith less than five minutes to realize dinner was a bad idea. Sam is too strung out to even look in Zarkon’s general direction, which puts Pidge and Matt in a foul mood, which makes Hunk not only distrustful of Zarkon, but protective of the Holts as well.

Shiro is trying to act like nothing is wrong, but his expression is too tight for it to come through as genuine.

Zarkon is the only one who appears to not be bothered by all, but he has over ten thousand years of experience with politics and dignitaries and dinner parties, so Keith isn’t surprised by that, even if there’s tension coming off of him in waves due to his injuries growing agitated again.

Zarkon had assured Keith the dinner won’t bother him, but he’s trying to keep the pain he feels from Keith, and Keith hadn’t known how to tell Zarkon the dinner doesn’t matter that much; it had just been an idea and they don’t have to go through with it.

But Zarkon hadn’t listened. He’d said that it mattered to Keith, and he will have to eat at some point anyways, so they might as well have the others eat with them.

Pidge moves her food around the plate, frowning at it like it’s personally offended her in some way. Matt looks ready to do the same. Shiro glances at them before shoving a slice of meat into his mouth.

“What did you say this was like again?” Hunk asks, poking at the beef on his plate.

“A mix between deer and a cow,” Keith replies.

Hunk hums and continues to study his food.

After a minute Shiro clears his throat. “We’ve been wondering if we could get back home soon?” His eyes flicker briefly from Keith to Zarkon, then back to Keith again. “The others must be worried and we’d like to get Sam to somewhere he feels more comfortable in.”

Keith turns to Zarkon and raises a questioning eyebrow.

Zarkon studies his glass of wine, his still plate untouched. “I would have to call Lotor back.”

“Would you?” Keith asks. “Unless you want to keep them here forever.”

Zarkon directs a displeased look at Keith. “I believe he is rather busy at the moment. We can discuss it at a later time.”

Keith inclines his head, satisfied with Zarkon’s words and the reassurance tripling through the bond. He glances at Zarkon’s untouched plate again before picking up his own glass of wine and taking a long sip.

Matt and Sam whisper something to each other, but Keith isn’t listening to them. Since Zarkon doesn’t react, Keith assumes it’s nothing important.

“When can we leave the table?” Pidge asks, directing her words at Zarkon who spares her a politely questioning look. “You ordered us to dinner, I assume you want us to stay a certain amount of time.”

Keith stares at his plate without seeing it, his ears drawn flat against his head. Zarkon’s confusion seeps through the bond, and Keith’s cheeks heat up.

“I would hope you at least finish your meal,” Zarkon says, his voice as close to pleasant as it gets around people he doesn’t care for.

Pidge sighs, but resumes emptying her plate at a faster pace.

Keith risks a glance up, gritting his teeth when he catches the knowing look in Shiro’s eyes. Keith averts his eyes and fills his mouth with food so that he doesn’t have to speak. Zarkon pokes Keith sharply through the bond, and Keith closes his eyes and silently curses himself.

The dinner was definitely a mistake.

Shiro clears his throat. “While we wait for Lotor to be free, is there any chance we could do something other than be stuck in our rooms?”

“Why would I allow that?” Zarkon tilts his head and fills his glass with wine again.

Shiro looks to Keith for advice, and Keith bites his lip as he thinks of a solution. “They saw the people who’ve been attacking you. They’ve seen their ships and —“

“We know more about them than you do,” Zarkon points out.

Keith narrows his eyes. “Well, then humor me.”

An expectant silence fall in the room, and all eyes are on Keith and Zarkon. It makes Keith’s ears twitch, but Zarkon remains unbothered.

“I will consider it,” Zarkon offers eventually, and Keith inclines his head.

“Thanks.”

Keith tries to let Zarkon feel how grateful he is through the bond, but Zarkon won’t let him in. Keith frowns at him, but Zarkon refuses to meet his eyes.

Something’s wrong, Keith can feel it in his gut. Zarkon never blocks him anymore; feeling the bond whenever they reach for it is like a lifeline for them both these days.

Sam clears his throat, dragging Keith’s attention from Zarkon to him. Sam cants his empty glass towards the pitcher of juice that’s there mostly for Pidge’s sake. “Could you...”

“Sure.” Keith pushes the pitcher over to Sam, who thanks him and fills his glass, then offers the pitcher to Pidge, who accepts it with a smile. Matt empties his glass in a long gulp and pushes it towards Pidge, who makes a face at Matt, but she fills the glass anyways.

Keith’s attention returns to Zarkon and the bond. Shiro and Hunk start talking a moment later, but their voices are like white noise in the background to Keith as he tries to puzzle out why Zarkon won’t let him feel his mind. It can’t be because Zarkon doesn’t like Keith’s friends — Keith is fully aware of that already so there would be no reason for Zarkon to hide it — and it’s not because Zarkon is in a bad mood; he doesn’t have the hint of tension that always appears at the corners of his mouth that gives out his bad moods.

And Zarkon still hasn’t touched his food. It must be getting cold by now. Zarkon doesn’t seem to mind; he finishes another glass of wine and fills the glass again, his grip on it tight and trembling minutely.

Keith puts more pressure on the bond, determined to not let Zarkon get away with avoiding him. The walls protecting Zarkon’s mind crack, and Keith almost chokes on the meat in his mouth. Zarkon is quick to raise his shields again, but the damage has been done; Keith has felt the pain Zarkon tried to hide.

“Get out,” Keith says, his voice so dark he barely recognizes it.

The soft clatter of utensils on plates stop, all eyes turning to Keith. He turns to glare at the others, his ears flat and his tail flicking against his chair. “Get. Out.”

Shiro studies Keith silently for a moment, his eyes worried and questioning. Keith keeps glaring at the others, and eventually Shiro nods at them, and stands. The others follow his example.

“You may take the food with you,” Zarkon says, surprising everyone. “And wait outside the door until your escort arrives.”

Though they’d complained about the dinner, Matt and Hunk grab their plates and glasses, and head to the doors. Pidge had finished her dinner already, but she fills her glass and pesters Sam to taking his food with him — “you look starved” — and Shiro ushers them out of the door.

Keith turns his attention to Zarkon, barely noticing that Shiro doesn’t leave. His glare melts, replaced by concern as he pushes the chair out from under himself and hurries to Zarkon’s side.

Finally, knowing there’s no reason for him to not let Keith into his mind, Zarkon lowers his shields.

Keith almost sobs as he pulls Zarkon into a hug. “You’re stupid, you know that?”

Zarkon sets his glass on the table and wraps his arms around Keith, and buries is face in Keith’s clothes.

Shiro wanders to them, though he stays at a respectful distance, his concern clear in his face. “Do you... can I do anything?”

Keith can hear the uncertainty in Shiro’s voice — of what’s going on, of why Keith had called the dinner to such a sudden end — but Keith doesn’t care. He pulls out the pad he’d been given — a new, resizable one that Keith is always worried about breaking as the screen is too thin and seems more transparent than usual — and calls Haggar. She’s not happy to be bothered, but upon hearing something’s wrong with Zarkon, she promises to hurry.

Waiting for Haggar is the longest five minutes of Keith’s life. He runs his claws along Zarkon’s neck, trying to soothe the pain he’s in with his touch and through the bond. Zarkon clings to him tighter, the freezing cold of his skin seeping through Keith’s clothes.

After a moment, Shiro sits down, restless energy emanating from him to the point that Keith almost tells him to go away, but Haggar arrives before Keith can do so. She breezes past Shiro and waves Keith out of her way. Keith takes a reluctant step away from Zarkon, towards Shiro, but Zarkon’s hand gripping his wrist keeps him from getting too far.

Haggar studies Zarkon with a critical eye, checking his pulse and waving her scanner at him. Zarkon keeps his eyes on Keith, as if nothing else exists in his world. Usually Keith would be pleased by it, but right now he’s too worried for that.

Eventually Haggar takes a step away, scowling at Zarkon. “I told you to rest.”

Zarkon doesn’t look away from Keith or acknowledge Haggar in any way, so Keith turns to her and nods. “He’ll rest from now on.”

Haggar inclines her head. “See that he does.” She turns to Shiro. “Move.”

With one last concerned glance in Keith’s direction, Shiro follows Haggar out of the room.

Once they’re alone, Keith kneels on the floor by Zarkon’s side, taking his hands and forcing himself to smile. “Let’s get back to our room, okay?”

For a few long seconds, Zarkon merely stares at Keith, but then he inclines his head, almost defeated. Keith nods, then presses a kiss on the back of Zarkon’s hand, his skin freezing against Keith’s lips. Keith stands and helps Zarkon do the same.

When they exit the room, there’s no one in the hallway, and Keith breathes a sigh of relief before guiding Zarkon to the nearest elevator and taking him to their quarters.

 

* * *

 

Shiro has no idea what just happened, and he doesn't understand how Keith had known something was wrong with Zarkon. He hadn’t even looked at Zarkon, which Shiro could have understood; you learn to read your abuser as a survival tactic. Not that either Keith or Zarkon would ever say Keith has been abused.

But Keith hadn’t been paying attention to Zarkon, he’d just known. Just like Zarkon had just known Shiro had Keith in his room, and that Keith was upset because of Shiro.

With a huff, Shiro falls on his bed, scowling at the ceiling.

“What happened?” Hunk asks as he sets his plate aside. “I can’t figure out what we did to piss Keith off this time.”

“Nothing.” Shiro sighs and sits up. “Something was wrong with Zarkon. Keith called Haggar and she said he’s supposed to rest.”

Hunk frowns thoughtfully. “I suppose it’s good he’s not in as good of a shape he’d like us to think he is.”

“Keith doesn’t see it that way,” Shiro points out. “He’s worried about Zarkon and... I don’t know how he saw it.”

Hunk shrugs. “He knows Zarkon — he had to learn to read him to survive — so that’s probably it. I wouldn’t worry about it too much.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” Shiro says, though he’s not sure he believes Hunk. He lies down again, mulling over the dinner and its abrupt end. He’ll have to ask Keith about it. Maybe he can ask Kiira to take him to Keith.

A day later, that’s exactly what Shiro does, though Kiira protests and says it’s entirely likely that Keith won’t be available for a surprise visit. Shiro still insists on it.

Though she’s unhappy about it, Kiira takes him to Keith’s room and knocks on the door before opening it. “Wait here,” she tells Shiro as she steps through the door and lets it close behind her.

Shiro sighs and leans on the wall opposite of the door, and waits for either Keith or Kiira to walk through the door. A few minutes later a less than happy looking Keith opens the door and steps into the hallway. Neither of them says anything as the door shuts. Keith barely meets Shiro’s eyes.

“Is everything okay?” Shiro asks, not knowing how else to start a conversation.

Keith crosses his arms and nods. “Yeah, everything’s fine.”

They both know it’s a lie, and Shiro gives Keith a moment to continue before pointing it out.

“Everything’s fine,” Keith repeats more forcefully, looking away from Shiro. “I just got tired of sitting at a table with all of you not even bothering to pretend to be civil.”

“I don’t buy that,” Shiro says.

“That’s your problem, not mine,” Keith shoots back, his ears drawn back.

Shiro resists the urge to frown, telling himself that Keith isn’t lashing out because he’s angry at him; it’s clear on Keith’s face. Shiro takes a deep breath and pushes himself off the wall. “I’m not gonna fight you, so you can stop trying to make that happen. I’m just worried about you, and I thought I’d see how you’re doing.” Shiro stops, studying Keith’s sour expression before continuing; “I don’t know if you still want us to have a relationship, but even if you don’t you’re still my friend, and I want you to be okay.”

Some of the fight drains out of Keith, and his shoulders slump. “I’m fine.”

“But?”

Keith shakes his head, and Shiro bridges the distance between them and pulls Keith into his arms. It takes a moment, but eventually Keith sneaks his arms around Shiro and clings to him, a sob escaping his lips.

“Hey, everything’s gonna be fine.” Shiro rubs Keith’s back, trying to soothe the tremors running down his body. “It’s gonna be fine.”

“I know.” Keith draws in a shaky breath. “I just... I’m  _ worried _ .”

Of course Keith is worried; he cares about Zarkon, and no matter what Shiro thinks of that he’s not going to chide Keith for being worried about Zarkon.

“I’m sure Haggar’s going to fix the problem,” Shiro offers.

Keith nods against Shiro’s shoulder. “Yeah.” He pulls back, his ears drooping. Shiro brushes the tears from Keith’s cheeks and offers him a smile that Keith tries to return.

“Is there anything I can do?” Shiro asks as he pushes a stray strand of hair from Keith’s face.

Keith shakes his head. “No. Well, yeah, if you think you can keep the others from causing trouble for a few days. I’ll have Zarkon call Lotor here when he feels better, but I don’t want to bother him with that right now. If you want, I can ask Haggar to let you move around when she comes to check on Zarkon the next quarter.”

Shiro nods. “I’m sure that’d make it easier for the others to wait a little longer.” It seems to ease Keith’s mind, at least a little, and Shiro feels lighter.

Without a warning, Keith presses a brief but urgent kiss on Shiro’s lips, then pulls back in a hurry before Shiro can react, not quite meeting Shiro’s eyes. “I should go save Kiira from Zarkon. He wasn’t too happy to be left with her.”

Shiro nods, still trying to process the kiss.

Keith bolts through the door, and Shiro gets a grip of himself seconds before Kiira joins him and guides him back to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post another chapter later this week, probably around weekend.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	24. Chapter 24

“Please, stop fretting,” Zarkon says for the second time in less than half an hour, his voice considerably more frustrated than it was the first time around.

Keith stops pacing, but he can’t relax. He’s so tense he thinks he might snap if someone were to touch him. “Sorry.”

Zarkon narrows his eyes, then sighs and waves Keith to join him on the bed. Keith goes, his tail flicking from side to side and his ears twitching nervously. He curls by Zarkon’s side, ignoring the freezing cold of his skin and the raspy edge of his breathing in favor of focusing on Zarkon’s eyes on him.

“What is it?” Zarkon asks, even though he already knows the answer.

“You should’ve told me you weren’t feeling okay.”

Zarkon studies Keith, then nuzzles his cheek. “I did not wish to worry you.”

“I worry when you’re being an idiot! You gotta tell me if something’s wrong; what if I hadn’t pressed and you would’ve gotten hurt?” Keith looks away. “I can’t lose you again.”

For a moment, Zarkon doesn’t say anything, and Keith doesn’t dare to break the silence. Eventually Zarkon sighs and pushes himself up, leaning against the headboard. Keith scurries after him. “You can’t — “

“I can sit.” Zarkon smiles and runs his hand through Keith’s bangs, pushing them off of Keith’s face. “You need to stop worrying so much.”

“I’ll stop worrying when you start acting like a responsible adult,” Keith shoots back. Zarkon quirks an eyebrow, and Keith sets his jaw and straightens his back, staring Zarkon down as best he can. “You know what I mean.”

Instead of replying, Zarkon pulls Keith into his arms and holds him close. Keith doesn’t complain; he feels more secure lying against Zarkon’s chest and feeling it rise and fall beneath him.

A few nights ago, Keith had rested his head on Zarkon’s chest, listen for his heartbeat. He’d been scared half dead when he didn’t hear it immediately, but it’s there; slow — too slow — and faint, almost impossible to detect. Keith listens to that sound now, fearing it’ll disappear after each faint beat, when it takes several long seconds for him to hear it again.

“Keith?”

“Hmm?”

“Stop worrying. You do realize you are making it impossible for me to relax?” Zarkon rubs Keith’s ear to take the sting out of his words, but Keith still sighs and chides himself. He knows his mood affects Zarkon, and he knows he should relax, but how can he? Zarkon nudges his shoulder gently and Keith looks up. “I want you to go spend time with your friends. If it will make you feel better I will call Haggar to stay here while you are gone.”

Keith frowns. “I don’t want to leave you.”

“You need to do something to unwind, kito,” Zarkon replies, his voice gentle.

Keith scowls at him, but he can’t deny that Zarkon has a point. “Only if Haggar stays here the entire time.”

Zarkon inclines his head. “Of course.”

Reluctantly, Keith agrees to go spend time with his friends the next day. For now he’s content to just lie by Zarkon’s side and make sure he’s fine.

 

* * *

Marzila nearly breaks Matt’s nose when she swings a short staff at him a little too enthusiastically. Though she apologizes, Keith is certain she did it on purpose; no one with Marzila’s skill level just lose control of a staff like that. Keith himself has seen her handle staffs on numerous occasions, and she’s never had a problem with them. Haala’s smirk only strengthens Keith’s certainty that Marzila flung the staff at Matt on purpose.

Keith’s amusement fades quickly, and his worry over Zarkon’s well being creeps up on him again. Shiro sees it — of course he does — and he studies Keith closely, something akin to concern in his eyes. Keith looks away from Shiro and tries to shake the uneasiness away. He promised Zarkon he’d have a good time and that he’d relax a little, and he intends to do just that.

“Is there anything else besides throwing sticks at Matt here to do?” Keith asks.

“We could pay riosh,” Haala suggests.

Marzila shakes her head. “Not unless you want to end up losing all your possessions to him.”

“No riosh,” Keith agrees.

“We could spar,” Marzila says. “I for one could use the exercise.”

“You’re not hospitalizing them all,” Keith replies.

“How about we just get something to eat?” Shiro cuts in. “To start with, at least.”

Keith, Haala and Marzila share looks, and after a moment they accept Shiro’s suggestion. Matt agrees immediately, but he asks them to wait until he’s asked Hunk, Pidge and his father if they want to join.

Hunk is half asleep in his bed and declines the invitation, but after a little coaxing Pidge and Sam join them.

To their credit, Haala and Marzila do their best not to make Sam too uncomfortable — Keith had explained his situation to them the first time he’d been alone with them — and Sam, despite being tense, is polite to them.

They enter the mess hall and Keith’s bad mood dissipates into thin air at the sight of Gailek walking towards them. Keith smiles at him, and Gailek returns the smile.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Keith says.

Gailek bows his head slightly in apology. “I’m sorry. I wanted to spend time with the other Galra. If you want my company I can — “

“No, you should do what you want to do. I can always stop by at some point,” Keith hurries to say.

Gailek doesn’t look convinced, but he inclines his head and steps out of Keith’s way. “In that case I hope to see you at another time.”

“You will, don’t worry,” Keith promises. He watches Gailek walk away and out of the room before turning to his other friends. “What do you want to have?”

“Tea would be nice,” Sam replies.

“A sandwich,” Pidge says.

“Whatever they’re serving at the moment,” Shiro says, and Matt nods.

Keith nods and tells them to pick any table while he heads to the galley to get them what they want. Keith also gets himself a plate of dried and spiced meat sticks and iced tea. Haala gets sticky cheese to go with the meat sticks, and Marzila gets sliced vegetables and juice. Keith gets Shiro and Matt the fish salad being served, along with Pidge’s sandwich and Sam’s tea.

When they sit down at the table, and Shiro, Pidge, Matt and Sam have their food and drinks, Keith, Marzila and Haala start picking food from each others plates. It’s familiar and comfortable, and little by little, Keith relaxes.

They talk about this and that, carefully navigating around subjects that could lead to confrontations or hurt feelings.

Sam, Matt and Pidge manage to start a heated discussion about advancing computer’s power with Haala, which Keith considers an achievement since they all agree with each other — more or less, at least.

“Why can’t they have a normal conversation?” Marzila sighs softly.

Keith shrugs, but Shiro takes a moment to consider it. “They’re on different sides of a war, maybe it’s just that.”

Keith doesn’t appreciate the reminder of the war, and going by the flash of darkness that passes Marzila’s face neither does she.

They finish their late lunch, and Keith lets Marzila drag him to a hangar and challenge him to a sparring match. Keith is painfully aware of Shiro and the others there, but as Haala cheers Marzila on and encourages her to kick Keith’s ass, Keith relaxes and takes the staff Marzila offers him. It dawns on him she’d been carrying them around for this reason alone, and maybe he should have seen it.

It doesn’t matter to him, though; Keith’s more than happy to spar with her, and though she wins rather easily — and she complains about it as well — Keith sits on the ground, panting and grinning, all tension having left his body.

Marzila points her staff at Shiro, her ears tilting back. “You’re next.”

Shiro balks, and Keith frowns. “Shiro? Why?”

“He’s supposed to be good,” Marzila replies, letting her arm fall back on her side. “I like a challenge and you’re not offering one.”

Keith turns to Shiro, giving him a questioning look. Shiro grits his teeth, studying Marzila closely, glancing at Keith every now and again. “Okay,” he says after a moment, though there’s a hint of hesitation in his voice.

If Marzila hears it, she ignores it in favor of taking the staff from Keith as he pushes himself to his feet, and tossing it to Shiro.

Keith gets out of the way, offering Shiro an encouraging nod and a brief touch on his arm as they pass. Shiro smiles at him, weakly and joylessly, but he tries, and he puts on a brave face. At least Haala doesn’t encourage Marzila to murder Shiro where he stands. Keith goes to stand next to Haala and crosses his arms, and keeps a close eye on Shiro and Marzila as they agree on the basic rules.

Shiro fares reasonably well against Marzila for the first minute, but when she decides to stop playing and puts some effort into attacking Shiro, Shiro isn’t quite quick enough to react and Marzila knocks him to the ground.

Haala is naturally proud of Marzila, but Keith takes the time to give Shiro a few words of encouragement as well. “She’s really good. Don’t worry about it.”

“I’m not,” Shiro assures Keith as he rubs the small of his back, grimacing slightly. “She hit harder than I thought she would.”

“She’s Galra, you get bruised and battered when you spar with them.”

Shiro nods. “Yeah, I’m beginning to get that.”

Matt joins them, eyeing Marzila as he approaches. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” Shiro replies. Pidge and Sam trail after Matt, and after a moment Haala and Marzila join them too. Shiro expresses interest in the way Marzila handles her staff, and after a little coaxing from Keith, Marzila shows Shiro some of the basics.

After they’re done sparring and Marzila doesn’t want to teach Shiro anymore, Keith leaves them in the hangar to either do something else or go their separate ways, and heads back to Zarkon, feeling more relaxed than he has in days.

 

* * *

With Keith feeling more at ease, Zarkon has an easier time resting. Keith practices his Galran while Zarkon rests his head in Keith’s lap, correcting Keith’s pronunciation every now and again.

It’s almost like it was before Keith was taken.

While Keith was gone, Haggar had somehow gotten Zarkon to stay still for long enough for her to set up an IV drip that, as far as Keith can tell, is mostly full of sparkling white quintessence. It makes Zarkon seem... dreamy. He reaches up to play with a strand of Keith’s hair, a soft smile on his lips. Keith stops reading out loud and spares Zarkon a smile of his own, then gets back to reading before Zarkon can call him out on stopping.

Eventually Zarkon dozes off, and Keith dims the lights and settles down himself, enjoying the warmth filling the bond.

 

* * *

Shiro’s back is still sore from where he’d landed on the floor, but to his surprise he’d quite enjoyed sparring with Marzila — short as their match had been.

“I’m ready to get back to the Castleship,” Hunk groans and stretches his arms above his head, his joints popping loudly. “These beds are killing my back.”

“They’re not inclined to give us the nice beds,” Shiro says. “We’re not worth it to them.”

“The Galra are bad hosts, what a surprise,” Hunk grumbles as he stands up. “I’m gonna go grab something to eat.”

Shiro nods and waves Hunk goodbye.

After the disastrous dinner, they had gotten the privilege to move from their rooms to the mess hall and the bathrooms freely, but all other routes and rooms are off limits. It’s still more freedom than what they had, so Shiro doesn’t complain, even if he’d love to be able to go visit Keith whenever he wants.

Shiro dozes off, and when he wakes up again Hunk’s still missing. And the ship feels different, somehow.

Confused by the strange feeling, Shiro gets up from the bed and makes his way to the door and out of the small room. There’s nothing unusual going on in the hallway — not surprising — so Shiro heads to the mess hall where he might run into a druid and ask them what’s going on. He doesn’t ask the others to join him, not wanting to bother them with his own uneasiness.

There’s no one in the mess hall, but Shiro still gets a glass of water to drink, and he sits at one of the tables as he tries to decide on his next move. He could call Keith and ask him if something is going on, but there’s no guarantee he’d pick up; he’s been harder to reach since Zarkon got sick, or whatever it is that’s wrong with him.

It might still be his best option, so once Shiro has finished his water, he returns to his room and uses the comm pad there to call Keith. It takes a long time for him to get an answer, but eventually Keith’s sleepy voice comes through the comms.

“What?”

“I just had an odd feeling.” Now Shiro has a distinctive feeling of stupidity looming over him. It’s not something he should have bothered Keith with, and it’s definitely not something he should have woken Keith up for. Shiro laughs to alleviate his mood. “I thought the ship feels weird.”

“We’re moving,” Keith replies. “Hold on.”

There’s a scuffle of fabric, a faint murmur of a voice — Zarkon asking where Keith is going — and Keith’s quiet reply of “just the other room, go back to sleep” that’s followed by shifting sheets and a grumble and Keith laughing softly as he says “love you too”.

Shiro fights back the jealousy flaring in him while Keith settles in this other room he mentioned.

“Zarkon said the engines are experimental and that they make the air loaded with... I forgot what he called it, but it might make the ship feel strange for a while,” Keith says.

Shiro sits on his bed, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Any idea where we’re going?”

“No. Zarkon said that Haggar’s sensors have picked up something she wants to go check out, so we’re going to go check it out, apparently. It’s nothing to be concerned about; think of it as a routine science mission or something.”

It’s not exactly reassuring, considering what kind of science Haggar likes, but at least nothing bad is going on.

“Shiro?”

“Yes?”

“Stop worrying. Nothing bad is going on, it’s just a new engine,” Keith says, the smile on his lips clear in his voice.

“It just feels weird,” Shiro replies.

“I know, I feel it too. Just... listen to a book or something? Distract yourself until you get used to the feeling. I could send you one of my favorite books.”

Shiro mulls over Keith’s words, and after a moment he agrees; he could use the distraction.

“I’ll send it to you now. Call me again if you need help, okay?”

“Okay,” Shiro agrees. After a few seconds, the comm pad peeps, and Shiro pushes the blinking light on it to open the file.

“I gotta go now; have fun,” Keith says. He waits until Shiro says his goodbyes before disconnecting the call.

Shiro settles on his bed again, and starts the first chapter of the book Keith just sent him.

 

* * *

Keith crawls back to bed with Zarkon, yawning, his bones heavy. It’s the strange hum in the air, he thinks.

“What did he want?” Zarkon asks as he pulls Keith back into his arms.

“He though the ship feels weird. I sent him a book to listen to,” Keith replies, then smiles. “Don’t get jealous.”

“Because you gave him book recommendations?”

“I could give them to you too, but I don’t know anything but Earth books,” Keith says. “I think you’d like some of them.”

Mostly the cheesy romance novels from a few decades ago. Maybe a few of the new ones as well.

“I shall take your word for it,” Zarkon says. He presses his cheek against the top of Keith’s head and sighs, already drifting back to sleep.

Keith waits until Zarkon’s breath evens out and slows down to the point Keith can’t be sure he’s even breathing before pulling away just enough to place a kiss on Zarkon’s temple. He settles back down, and slowly drifts into fitful sleep.

Keith jolts awake when the ship shudders, and Zarkon mumbles something about passing a nebula before falling back to sleep. Keith stays awake a moment longer, tracing his claws across the faint scar on Zarkon’s palm, but eventually he closes his eyes and falls back to sleep as well.

The next time he wakes up, Zarkon isn’t there, and Keith panics. Within seconds, Zarkon sends his assurance that he’s not far away through the bond. Keith gulps for breath as the realization that Zarkon is just in the bathroom and not gone washes over him.

Keith scrambles out of the bed and hurries to the bathroom, steam hitting his face and turning his thin clothes damp until they cling to his skin when he steps through the door.

Zarkon smiles at Keith, relaxed, and waves him to come closer. “Join me.”

Keith does; he sheds his clothes and discards them on the floor, and climbs into the hot water. He settles against Zarkon’s chest and sighs, the water doing wonders to his tense muscles. “Wake me up the next time you get up, okay?”

_ “ _ You needed the rest,” Zarkon replies. He sloshes water on Keith’s head, soaking his hair before pouring soap on his hair and rubbing his scalp.

Keith closes his eyes and purrs, even though he should be the one to care for Zarkon, not the other way around. Zarkon is the one who’s hurt and not him, after all; Zarkon is the one who needs to taking care of.

“I missed this,” Keith sighs.

Zarkon hums and drags his claws through Keith’s hair before rinsing the soap away. Keith relaxes while Zarkon washes his skin as well. Slowly, Zarkon trails his hands down Keith’s thighs, and Keith spreads his legs, anticipation bubbling inside him.

A second passes, then another, then Zarkon takes Keith into his hand. Keith’s breath hitches and he’s already half hard, his tail wrapping itself tightly around Zarkon’s leg. Zarkon wraps his free hand around Keith’s throat, tilting his head back so that he can bite Keith’s shoulder.

Keith gasps, then moans. Somewhere in the back of his mind he knows this might not be the best idea since Zarkon is still healing. Last night he was too tired to even stay up after dinner, and now...

Now Keith can’t find the willpower to tell Zarkon no.

Keith comes too soon, his claws digging into Zarkon’s shoulders as he tries to pull him closer, impossibly closer, like he’s trying to get Zarkon under his own skin until they become one.

While Keith tries to catch his breath, Zarkon runs his claws gently up and down Keith’s thighs, pressing soft kisses along Keith’s shoulder and neck.

Eventually Keith regains his ability to breathe, and his ability to speak shortly after. “Are you okay?”

Zarkon rests his chin on Keith’s shoulder. “Am  _ I  _ alright?”

The amused nudge through the bond is enough to make Keith groan. “I got kidnapped, I haven’t had the time to get myself off. Well, I had the time, but... I was worried about you, and I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again so... I had other things in mind.”

Zarkon hums and takes the tip of Keith’s ear into his mouth, worrying it with his teeth until Keith lets out a soft noise.

“I am here now.”

Yes he is, and Keith has never been so glad to have anyone so near him.

Though he hates it, Keith disentangles himself from Zarkon and stumbles out of the bath. His legs feel weak under him, but Keith makes it to a towel, and then to the vanity where his hair dryer is.

The water sloshes when Zarkon follows Keith. He wraps his arms around Keith, his skin dripping water on Keith.

“I just dried myself!”

“You can do it again later,” Zarkon replies, nipping Keith’s ear. He lets his desire seep through the bond and Keith shudders, his eyes closing without his permission.

He wants Zarkon, just as much as Zarkon wants him, but —

“You’re hurt. You need rest. Haggar — “

“Stopped by before you woke up with a new treatment she devised form the quintessence she harvested a few varga ago form the micro rift we encountered and some research she has done she did not give me much details on. I am feeling much better,” Zarkon assures him.

Keith opens his eyes and studies Zarkon’s reflection through the mirror, taking note of the faint hint of warmth clinging to his skin, and his heartbeat, while still too slow and faint, is also stronger; even his eyes seem a little brighter than before, and his breathing lacks the raspiness it so often has these days. Keith turns, studying the scar on Zarkon’s side. It does seem to glimmer a bit fainter than usual, but Keith is still concerned.

Without warning, Zarkon picks Keith off the ground and deposits him on the vanity, stepping between Keith’s legs and returning to teasing his ears. Keith moans and tilts his head to the side to give Zarkon a better access.

“You sure the medication didn’t have some other side effects?” Keith laughs when Zarkon rearranges Keith’s legs around his hips.

“I have missed you,” Zarkon replies, and it’s so simple that Keith’s breath catches in his throat. “Please.”

Keith considers saying no, but he wants this, like he’d wanted this after his battle with Vazka; the same need to reassure himself that they are both  _ alive _ is there, simmering under Keith’s skin.

“Wait,” Keith gasps, pushing Zarkon away. Zarkon takes a step back, but he’s not happy about the turn of events. “Lie on the floor.”

“Why would I do that?” Zarkon counters.

“Because if we’re gonna do this, we’re doing this on my terms,” Keith replies, offering Zarkon a reassuring smile. “Trust me.”

Zarkon inclines his head and takes another step back. Keith hops off the vanity and pulls all the towels he can find to the floor, then encourages Zarkon to lie down. Zarkon indulges Keith by doing just so.

Keith straddles Zarkon’s hips and leans down to nuzzle his jaw, his still damp hair falling from behind his ear to hide his face until Zarkon brushes it back again. Keith lets his hands trail across Zarkon’s chest and along his sides; he drags his claws down Zarkon’s hips, until he can cup Zarkon’s sheath. Keith sighs at the hot weight of it in his hand, enjoying the way Zarkon spreads his legs slightly to give Keith better access.

Keith bites Zarkon’s jaw, then he stands up. Zarkon pushes himself up to his elbows, but the warning look Keith gives him keeps him from getting up. Keith rummages through the cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for, then he returns to straddling Zarkon’s hips. “If at any point you start to even think you feel unwell or anything — “

“I will let you know,” Zarkon promises, and Keith believes him.

Keith slaps Zarkon’s hands away when he tries to take the jar from Keith. “Let me do the work, okay?”

“I like doing the work,” Zarkon replies.

Keith laughs. “I know, but not this time, okay? Let me take care of you for a change.”

Zarkon drops his hands to rest gently on Keith’s thighs, and Keith leans down to nip Zarkon’s jaw before straightening up and opening the jar, and dipping his fingers in it. Zarkon watches Keith closely as he soaks his fingers in oil and begins preparing himself.

It shouldn’t be as much of a turn on as it is to have Zarkon’s eyes on him, to have his claws press into Keith’s thighs from the effort not to grab Keith and flip him over. Keith bites his lip and keeps his eyes locked with Zarkon’s as he prepares himself.

Zarkon’s claws dig into Keith’s skin, almost deep enough to draw blood.

It’s been too long since Keith last did this, and his body has forgotten how to accustom to the intrusion of even his own fingers. Zarkon shushes him through the bond and rubs his thumbs against Keith’s thighs.

When he pulls his fingers free, Keith is glad he decided to take the numbing gel along with the oil. He presses a kiss on the corner of Zarkon’s mouth before scooping some of the gel up and getting back to stretching himself.

Zarkon grabs Keith by the neck and pulls him down, biting Keith’s neck, leaving marks on his skin. Keith stops caring if he’s ready or not; the want is too much for him to bear.

Keith lets out an urgent noise and wipes his fingers on the towels, trying to kiss Zarkon at the same time. Keith doesn’t get a chance to sit up before Zarkon puts his arm around Keith’s waist and aligns himself with Keith’s hole.

Keith forgets all about being in control; he barely remembers to breathe when Zarkon pushes inside him, the burn and fullness of it familiar in a way Keith didn’t expect it to be. Zarkon is the one to encourage Keith to move his hips, and Keith does, slowly fucking himself on Zarkon’s cock, the gravity helping him along the way.

Zarkon runs his claws up Keith’s sides, then he wraps a hand around Keith’s throat, possessive and firm, but never choking. He plays with Keith’s ear with his other hand for a moment, then he runs his hand down Keith’s cheek until he can press his thumb against Keith’s lips. Keith opens his mouth and bites Zarkon’s thumb gently before sucking it into his mouth dutifully.

The bond is alight with their emotions — want, need,  _ mine yours  _ mixing with the desperation to be  _ closer _ . So much closer, until they can’t be separated from one another ever again.

Zarkon pulls his thumb free form Keith’s mouth and places his hand on Keith’s hip, encouraging him to move. Keith hadn’t even realized he’d stopped. He leans a hand on Zarkon’s chest, above his heart, and rocks his hips, slowly, steadily, building up his rhythm.

Pleasure shoots through Keith. His tail wraps around Zarkon’s leg and he moans. Zarkon releases Keith’s neck and Keith lets out a soft sound of protest that dissipates quickly when Zarkon wraps his hand around Keith’s erection.

Keith gasps and — on a whim — leans down and bites Zarkon’s neck hard enough to break the skin. Before Zarkon can decide he doesn’t like it, Keith leans up to kiss him, sloppy and wet.

Zarkon comes first, deep inside Keith, as he wraps his arms around Keith, his claws digging into Keith’s back, and Keith swallows the soft groan from his lips. Keith follows suit seconds later, the blinding sparks of pleasure shooting through the bond pushing him over the edge.

They lay there, panting on the mess of the towels, trying to catch their breaths. Keith listens to Zarkon’s heartbeat as Zarkon’s chest rises and falls under his head comfortingly. Zarkon pets Keith’s hair, lazy and absent.

“Shower?” Keith asks once his breathing has steadied enough for him to speak. His legs tremble from the extrusion, but it’s the good kind of tremble and Keith smiles a little at it.

“How about another bath?” Zarkon replies.

Keith laughs, but considering the state of his legs, it might be a good idea. “Okay.”

Keith picks up the towels and sets them aside while Zarkon draws the bath. Once the towels are cleared and the bath is ready, Keith snuggles against Zarkon’s chest in the warm water, his body exhausted and his muscles weak, but Keith smiles and sighs, and closes his eyes, listening to Zarkon purring softly as he pets Keith’s hair abently.

 

* * *

 

Getting dragged into the laboratories without an explanation puts Shiro in a state where he’s ready to panic, but he reigns it in. It’s easier to do when Hunk and Pidge join him, and he doesn’t feel so alone. Matt stays behind with Sam who would rather not come to a room full of druids.

Once in the laboratory, their escorts show Shiro, Hunk and Pidge to Haggar. She tells them to wait while she finishes her work, and Shiro, Hunk and Pidge do as they’re told. Hunk and Pidge eye the druids around them, suspicion clear on their faces.

When Haggar is ready, she allows Shiro, Pidge and Hunk to approach her. “I want to do a minor modification to that,” Haggar says and waves at Shiro’s arm.

“What kind of modification?” Hunk asks before Shiro can even fully process what Haggar had just said.

“A system update of sorts,” Haggar replies.

“Why?” Pidge asks.

Haggar grows visibly annoyed, and Shiro’s not surprised when she doesn’t answer Pidge. Instead, she pulls Shiro closer and hooks cords into Shiro’s arm before he can protest. Shiro sighs and looks over his shoulder to his friends. They shuffle closer, keeping a close eye on what Haggar is doing.

Shiro clenches and unclenches his free hand, his teeth gritted together.

Haggar has barely started working on her computer again when Keith walks up  to them, his movements just a bit too stiff, his hair hanging loose. He’s not wearing a coat like he usually does; instead he has a loose, dark emerald shirt that would hang off his shoulder if he wasn’t raising them to his ears and his arms weren’t crossed tightly across his chest.

Keith raises an eyebrow at Shiro who shrugs. Keith joins Haggar’s side, studying her computer screen. “What did you want?”

Haggar turns to Keith, scrutinizing him closely for a moment. “Hold on.” She walks away, leaving Keith staring after her, and Shiro hooked up to the computer.

“Are you okay?” Hunk asks Keith, who pulls his shoulders higher.

“I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Keith says, exasperated, and throws an annoyed look at Hunk. “Stop asking.”

If Hunk was going to reply, he doesn’t get a chance; Haggar returns with a small glass — Shiro tries not to think shot glass — filled to the bring with lime green, thick liquid, and hands it to Keith, whose cheeks turn a darker shade of purple as he blushes, though Shiro doesn’t understand why he’d do that. She sets the boxes in her arms on the table while Keith downs the liquid.

“Thanks,” Keith says as he hands the glass back to Haggar. She sets the glass down on the table and takes a hold of Keith’s face, and tilts his head from side to side and back and forth until Keith flinches.

Haggar lets go of Keith’s head and moves to rummage through her cabinets briefly before returning to Keith with a small jar and a ribbon.

Keith raises his hands and takes a step back. “I’m good.”

“Don’t argue with me,” Haggar replies, taking a step closer to Keith. “I do not have the time for that.”

Keith chews his lip, glancing at Shiro and the others, then at Haggar. Finally, he sighs and accepts the ribbon with a defeated slump of his shoulders. He ties his hair up to a messy bun on the top of his head, and Shiro’s eyes widen at the sight of Keith’s neck and shoulders. Keith’s skin covered in bruises and teeth marks, some of which have scarred over from being deep enough to break Keith’s skin.

Haggar studies Keith’s neck, applying gel from her jar to some of the marks there. Keith grits his teeth, a blush coloring his cheeks, but he stands still and lets Haggar do as she pleases.

“What are you doing to Shiro’s arm?” Keith asks.

“The core requires an update to its code so that it won’t break,” Haggar replies absently.

Keith frowns. “I didn’t think you’d care about that.”

Haggar spares his face a look. “I will not have my work break if I can prevent it.”

“Professional pride?” Keith quirks an eyebrow and smiles. Haggar ignores him.

A minute later Haggar finishes treating Keith’s neck, and after returning the jar to its rightful place, she returns to downloading the code to Shiro’s arm. Keith hovers around them, and Shiro does his best not to stare at him. He was right about the shirt hanging off from Keith’s shoulder, and now that Keith isn’t trying to hide his neck, he doesn’t stop the sleeve from falling either.

“Where’s Kiira?” Keith asks, hovering over Haggar’s shoulder.

“She requested leave to go see her family, and I granted it.” Haggar straightens up and points at the boxes she’d brought to the table. “Those are for you.”

Keith’s eyes dart to the boxes, confusion coloring his expression, his ears tilting back. “All of them?”

“Some of them might be for the Emperor,” Haggar replies. “I also have the last of your test results ready.”

“You’re still running them?” Keith asks. “I thought you were done with them.”

“Almost.” Haggar taps in a last command on her computer, and once she’s done she pulls the cords from Shiro’s arm. “You can leave now.”

Shiro stands, trying out his arm. Hunk and Pidge monitor him closely, scrutinizing the way Shiro’s elbow bends and how he clenches his hand into a fist. Shiro’s attention isn’t on them though, it’s on Haggar pulling Keith aside, talking to him in hushed tones.

“Can we go now?” Pidge asks. “I want to get back to dad, and this place gives me the creeps.”

“Yeah, sure,” Shiro says, dragging his eyes from Keith to Pidge, and follows Hunk and Pidge out of the laboratory. No one comes to escort them to their rooms.

“Did you see Keith’s neck?” Hunk asks, knowing full well that both Pidge and Shiro had seen it.

“I don’t get how that works,” Pidge replies. “It’s weird and” — she falls silent, looking around, her eyes cautious — “you know,  _ Zarkon _ did that to him _. _ ”

“If it makes Keith happy, then I think we should leave it at that,” Shiro says.

“He looks like a chew toy,” Hunk points out, careful to keep his voice quiet.

Shiro grits his teeth, his blood boiling, something ugly bubbling in the pit of his stomach for just a second before he can get himself under control and chide himself for reacting in such a way. “Like I said; if it makes Keith happy.”

“It’s messed up,” Pidge mutters.

Shiro walks a little faster, needing to get to the peace and quiet of his room as soon as possible.

 

* * *

 

It takes Keith almost an hour to return to Zarkon. He takes the four boxes with him — the small one on the top is labeled to him from Kiira — but he doesn’t have the presence of mind to be interested in what’s in it.

Haggar had run tests on him, specifically on his genetics, and Keith doesn’t know what to do. He’d barely registered her saying that she’s in the middle of trying to isolate the source of Keith’s seeming immunity to Allura’s magic to use it to help Zarkon.

“Is something wrong?” Zarkon asks as Keith sets the boxes on the table, snapping Keith out of his thoughts.

“No. Yes. I don’t know. I — “ Keith swallows.

Zarkon closes his book and sets it on the arm of the couch, giving Keith his full attention, nudging him gently through the bond.

“Haggar took a closer look at my genetics,” Keith says and returns to spreading the boxes on the table. When Zarkon doesn’t say anything, Keith continues; “turns out I’m definitely part Altean.”

The silence that follows is loaded, and Keith doesn’t turn to face Zarkon even after he’s set the boxes in a neat row. “And apparently there’s something else there too — something that’s interlinked with the rest of my DNA but not really a part of it or something? Like, I’m not part Altean, part Galra, part something else, it’s more like I’m part Altean and part Galra and something’s just... there, combined with it without really being there? Haggar couldn’t explain it, but she said she’d look into it. She says it might just be the thing that made me look human and kept her from figuring out that I’m Galra when I got here, but she wants to be sure before saying that’s definitely what it is.”

Keith picks at the edge of the small box with his name on it, frowning at it like it should offer him answers.

“That must be confusing,” Zarkon says after a long moment of silence.

Keith nods. “Haggar said not to tell you.”

“And why is that?”

_ “ _ She thinks you won’t react well to me being part Altean.” Keith glances at Zarkon, fearing that he’ll see disgust or anger, or that shut off look Keith hates there, but he only sees confusion.

“You think I would hate you for what you are?”

Keith flinches at the hurt in Zarkon’s voice. “No, just... I know how you feel about Alteans — “

“You are not Altean,” Zarkon states.

Keith sighs, finally turning to fully face Zarkon. “I’m  _ part _ Altean. Haggar’s trying to figure out if someone has gone missing from the druid’s home planet — yeah, I know about that, and we’re gonna have a long conversation about that at some point.”

Zarkon closes his mouth, inclining his head reluctantly.

Keith glances at the box with his name, and gently tears the written note folded on top of it free.

_ Keith, _

_ I did not have the chance to say goodbye, but I have left to see my mate and child. _

_ As promised, here is something to help you with your problem. I took the liberty of including a medicine I modified to fit you — it works faster and more reliably than toys, but as those can be enjoyable as well and you wanted them, I did include a few for you to try. _

_ Kiira _

Keith folds the note and closes his eyes, suppressing a groan.

“What is it?” Zarkon asks.

Keith waves him off. “Nothing important.” He sets the note back on top of the box and takes a slow, deep breath. He turns back to Zarkon, steeling himself for what might happen next. “Does it matter to you?”

Zarkon frowns and tilts his head. “Does what matter?”

“That I’m part Altean?”

Zarkon smiles, his posture relaxing. “Of course not. You are mine, your origin does not matter; what matters is now.”

Keith blinks, his eyes wet, and hurries to Zarkon, throwing himself in Zarkon’s arms. Zarkon holds him close, soothing Keith’s mind through the bond. Keith buries his face in Zarkon’s shoulder and clings to him, fighting back the tears in his eyes.

“My dad was human,” Keith starts, his voice breaking, then takes a deep breath and tries again. “He was human, I  _ know  _ he was. We lived away from everyone and he taught me how to live in the desert — where to find shelter, where to hide, what was safe to eat and what wasn’t, how to navigate, that kind of stuff — and he taught me how to get a fire started, how to handle a knife... basic survival skills really. And astronomy that I could read the stars and find my way home and because he thought it was interesting. He said it was all because we lived so far away from everything, and he felt better knowing I could handle myself in the desert we lived in.”

Zarkon shifts, running his hand along Keith’s back soothingly, letting Keith take a moment to collect himself.

“I didn’t have friends growing up, really. We lived too far away from everyone and dad didn’t like me being around strangers too much. He said I was special...”

“You are special,” Zarkon says.

Keith smiles. “One night, we were stargazing, and we saw a comet — a really bright one. I remember thinking it hit the ground a few miles from our home but there was no sign that it had done that. Dad had watched it with his telescope and he said it just looked like it struck ground, but it hadn’t. Then he asked me if I wanted to spend the night in our secret hideout and I said yes, so we grabbed our bags — dad always had bags ready for us — and headed out. We got to the hideout and I got mad because I couldn’t find my stuffed pet and I couldn’t sleep without it and — “ Keith sobs, clinging to Zarkon tighter. Zarkon lets him take all the time he needs.

“He didn’t want to leave me alone, but I wouldn’t shut up about the stupid toy. He went back for it, and he never came back. I waited and waited and he didn’t come back, so I went looking for him. I thought he was mad at me for complaining and I wanted to apologize and... the house was on fire. I — I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know where my dad was and the house was burning and... I don’t know. I must’ve called for help with the spare phone in the shed, the one dad kept just because we had to have a working phone in the desert and dad wanted to be cautious. The officials said that the fire was suspicious and that either dad had set it up and ran or he’d burned with the house, they couldn’t tell — there wasn’t enough left of the house in the end, but they couldn’t find a body either. I got stuck in foster care but... I... I wasn’t used to being around so many people.”

Zarkon holds Keith close — impossibly close — and pets his hair, rubbing Keith’s back as he fills the bond with soothing warmth. Keith buries his face in the crook of Zarkon’s neck and sobs, his claws digging into Zarkon’s sides. Eventually he calms down and simply stays there, curled in Zarkon’s arms.

“Can we get dessert?” Keith asks, his voice quiet.

Zarkon presses a kiss on top of Keith’s head. “Of course.”

Keith nods, but he doesn’t get up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm aiming to get the next chapter up within the first few days of January, but it might take a little longer than that because I'm sick and I have work to do so... not making any promises,
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lets kick 2019 off with a new chapter :D

At her insistence, Keith finds time to spar with Marzila. Without the distraction of anyone else there Keith has an easier time focusing, and they both end up panting on the floor of their impromptu training room as they share a bottle of water. Keith hands the bottle back to Marzila and lies on the ground, his arms and legs spread.

 _“_ Why a staff?”

 _“_ Hmm?”

Keith turns his head until he can see Marzila’s face. “Why a staff? A sword would seem like a more efficient choice.”

Marzila takes a long drink of the water. “I like my staff. I can get it down to three pieces if I need to and people underestimate it. People think that a weapon that’s not a blade or a firearm isn’t that dangerous, until they get a face full of electricity that is.” She tilts her head. “Actually, they’re dead at that point, so they’re not thinking anything anymore.”

 _“_ I’ve never seen a staff like yours,” Keith says.

“It’s custom made, as is my armor — it doesn’t conduct electricity. Everyone in my unit had custom weapons,” Marzila replies.

“I always thought you’d want a weapon with a blade,” Keith says. “You like stabbing. It’s weird your weapon of choice doesn’t have a stabby part.”

“Every great weapon has a stabby part,” Marzila declares, then laughs. Keith snorts and rolls his eyes.

Marzila sobers up after a minute. “My staff has a few modes. It does have a bladed end I can extend when needed, just like it has several settings for the electric flow.”

Keith inclines his head and sits up again. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” Marzila replies readily.

Keith shifts, picking at the seam of his pants, and lowers his eyes to the ground. “How did you know Haala is it for you? I mean... how do you know someone else isn’t... you know...”

“I just know,” Marzila replies, then sighs. “I see him and I feel complete.”

Keith frowns at the floor.

“I mean, sure, sometimes I meet someone I think I could stay with and that’s normal, but the idea of being with someone other than Haala just feels _wrong_. Even if I could do it,” Marzila continues. “I wouldn’t give Haala up even if someone I’d had a crush on for years showed up and asked me to run away with them.”

Keith’s eyes snap up. “What?”

Marzila smiles knowingly. “I’ve seen the way you and Shiro look at each other when you think no one sees it, and you talked about him more than the others.”

Keith’s tail flicks, and his ears flatten. “It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. You know — deep down you _know_ — what you want, be it one or both of them, and you’re just trying to convince yourself that you should want something else.” Marzila tilts her head, her brow furrowing and her ears twitching down. “How would you deal with that bond of yours if you chose Shiro?”

Keith’s face falls. He hadn’t ever stopped to consider that. He can never go on a date without Zarkon being aware of what’s going on; he can never get upset by something Shiro does without Zarkon getting mad — as Keith has already learned. He can never kiss Shiro or have sex with him without Zarkon knowing exactly what’s happening.

“Shit.”

“I think you need to take a step back and think about what you’re doing,” Marzila says before standing up and straightening her clothes. “Food?”

Keith sighs and nods. “Sure.”

They head to the mess hall in silence, and to Keith’s delight Haala is waiting for them there. Marzila nuzzles Haala’s cheek with her own before getting herself and Keith food.

“What’s wrong?” Haala asks as he offers Keith a bite of his bread.

Keith accepts the bread, and takes a moment to chew it before answering. “I’m trying to figure out my love life.”

Haala returns his attention to his plate. “You know when you really want pie and cake, and you can only get one and even though you’re trying to decide which you’ll take, you already know which one you’d prefer even if you’re telling yourself you want the other one as much?”

 _“_ Um, I suppose?”

Haala cocks his head. “Same situation. Stop overthinking and just admit you want the cake more than the pie.”

 _“_ But what if I can have both?” Keith asks.

Haala lifts an eyebrow and stares at Keith. “Then I don’t see what your problem is.” He frowns. “Unless you’re trying to convince yourself that just because you can have both means that’s what you have to go with.”

“Aren’t Galra supposed to be polyamorous?” Keith shoots back. “Why couldn’t I have both if that’s an option?”

“Yeah, but it’s thousands of years of culture and such. We’re raised in a society where having multiple partners is seen as normal, so we don’t get stuck on the idea of a single partner — though having only one partner is still pretty common; we mate with only one person, for example, and some people just don’t want to have multiple partners; they might be too possessive for that or they just don’t feel like maintaining relationships with multiple partners. And just because it’s our way doesn’t mean it’s for you; you grew up in a different culture with different ideals and customs,” Haala says.

“But — “

“Just don’t try to force yourself to be something you’re not, it’ll only make you and everyone else miserable in the long run. If you can have your cake and pie and it’ll make you all happy then great, if not, too bad, you gotta pick one or leave both on the shelf.” Haala levels Keith with a stern look.

“I don’t know,” Keith sighs, his ears drooping miserably.

Haala sighs. “You want to know what really determines if you can have both? How well your cake and pie go together.”

“What do you mean?”

“When I was at the Academy — engineering, not military — I was in this relationship; there were five of us, so it was quite the arrangement, but it worked until one of us brought in this sixth person his favorite in our group hated. It soured all of our relationships, and eventually it all broke down — starting with the three of them because his cake and pie didn’t get along.” Haala studies his claws. “You can’t have both if your cake and pie don’t like each other; otherwise you’re gonna end up coming home to your cake smelling like pie, and the cake is going to get jealous or angry, and when you go to your pie covered in cake marks your pie will do the same, and then no one is happy and the whole relationship sours, so you should just stick to the cake since no sane person picks pie over cake.”

Keith tries to frown, but he can’t fight the smile tugging at his lips. “Why do I feel like Shiro is the pie in this metaphor?”

“It’s the ears. How can you be into someone with such ugly ears?” Haala levels Keith with a judgmental look. “It’s disgusting.”

Keith laughs. “I’ll be sure to put ear shape down as a con in Shiro’s list of why I should or shouldn’t date him.”

Haala shrugs. “You’ll do what you want, but if all else fails, pick the one that gives better head.”

Keith sputters, mortified by what he just heard. By the time he regains some of his composure and he could protest to Haala’s words Marzila joins them, and Keith lets her change the subject to the other Galra on the ship apparently being cleared to go home soon.

 

* * *

 

Keith dries his hair, his body aching comfortably from sparring with Marzila, the heat of his shower still clinging to his skin. Zarkon had been sleeping when Keith had returned, but the bond is humming now, alight with gentle warmth that tells Keith Zarkon has woken up.

Keith doesn’t bother putting clothes on as he exits the bathroom with a jar of the thick body butter Zarkon had gifted him with in his hand.

As Keith had hoped, Zarkon is curled on the couch with his book. Keith takes a second to study him, noting his relaxed pose, but also the fact that he hasn’t dressed up like he usually does — he’s just pulled his deep red robe on and he’s more or less using it as a blanket.

Keith makes his way to Zarkon and waves the jar above his book. “Could you?”

Zarkon sets his book down and takes the jar without a word. Keith pulls his damp hair over his shoulder and turns his back to Zarkon while Zarkon screw the lid off the jar.

Keith sighs softly when Zarkon starts applying the butter to his skin. His touch spreads warmth all along Keith’s back despite the coolness of his hands, and Keith closes his eyes and enjoys the familiarity of it, letting his mind drift.

When Zarkon encourages Keith to turn so that he can apply the butter to his front as well, Keith turns and takes the opportunity to briefly lean down and nuzzle Zarkon’s cheek. Zarkon chuckles softly and smiles when Keith straightens up. Keith returns the smile.

Zarkon’s fingers linger on the scar running along Keith’s stomach, and Keith’s smile falters as the gentle warmth of the bond gains a gloomy edge. Keith tries to soothe Zarkon’s mind through the bond, and he does get Zarkon to smile. By the time Zarkon starts applying the butter to Keith’s arms his mood has lightened again.

When Zarkon is satisfied Keith’s skin has been properly tended to, Keith climbs into Zarkon’s arms, straddling his hips. “How are you?”

“I am fine,” Zarkon replies in the exasperated yet fond tone he’s started to use every time Keith inquires after his well being. “You do not need to worry so much.”

“I’ll worry and you can’t stop me. I’ll stop when Haggar says you’re okay,” Keith replies.

Zarkon inclines his head, a smile tugging at his lips. “Very well.” He drags his claws down Keith’s sides, until his hands rest on Keith’s hips.

Keith quirks an eyebrow and licks his lips. “Are you sure you’re up to it?”

“I know my limits,” Zarkon assures him. “I merely wish to please you.”

Keith’s heart beats a little faster, and Zarkon doesn’t miss it; he rubs his thumbs along the insides of Keith’s thighs, teasing and comforting at the same time. Keith’s thoughts flash to what Haala had said ( _pick the one that gives better head_ ) and his cheeks heat up.

“Is that what you want?” Zarkon asks, quirking a brow.

Keith takes a slow, steadying breath. “Yeah.”

Zarkon lifts Keith off his lap and encourages him to sit on the couch while he kneels on the ground between Keith’s legs. Zarkon pulls Keith closer, until he can lick and nibble Keith’s neck, his hands running up and down Keith’s thighs and his sides, until he can drag his claws over Keith’s nipples. His claws leave dark purple marks on Keith’s skin, but never draw blood.

Keith sighs and tilts his head back, letting Zarkon mark his skin up as he pleases.

Zarkon teases Keith, touching him, kissing his skin, sucking a mark here, biting a spot there, dragging his claws over Keith’s too sensitive skin until Keith is achingly hard, panting and begging for Zarkon to stop teasing him already. Zarkon chuckles and finally takes Keith into his mouth. Keith gasp and arches his back, and wraps his legs around Zarkon’s shoulders as he pushes himself up into the wet heat of Zarkon’s mouth, all sense leaving his mind.

Without a warning, Zarkon pulls Keith forward, tipping him off balance so that Keith falls back on the couch. Keith barely notices; his focus is on Zarkon’s mouth on his dick, not what position he’s in.

Keith doesn’t last long — not with Zarkon sucking him off, his tongue lapping at the tip of Keith’s dick. Keith tightens his legs around Zarkon’s shoulders and warns him of his orgasm through the bond, unable to form words. The warning is mixed with _please let me please please don’t move_. And Zarkon doesn’t. The assurance is enough to tip Keith over the edge, and he comes into Zarkon’s mouth with a shout.

Keith slumps on the couch, panting and grinning, and Zarkon leans up to press a kiss on Keith’s shoulder before standing. Keith reaches for Zarkon who takes his hand and squeezes it briefly before heading to the bathroom.

“I love you,” Keith calls after him.

Zarkon doesn’t answer him, but he sends a wave of warmth and affection through the bond. Keith catches his breath before pushing himself off the couch and following Zarkon even though he knows Zarkon will bring him a damp cloth if he just waits.

When Keith enters the bathroom, Zarkon is washing his hands absently. Keith grabs a cloth from a cabinet and ducks it quickly under the warm water, then cleans himself up before leaning on the counter, studying Zarkon closely. “You could say it back, you know?”

Zarkon raises an eyebrow and spares Keith an indulgent look.

“That you love me,” Keith elaborates, then frowns. “Unless you don’t, which is fine.” It’s not, but Keith’s not going to voice that thought.

“I fail to understand what you would gain from that,” Zarkon says as he turns the water off and dries his hands, giving Keith his full attention.

Keith shrugs. “It’s a human thing, I guess; we’re used to verbal assurances of love and stuff like that.”

Zarkon studies Keith, a hint of a frown on his brow. After a moment he picks Keith up and deposits him on the vanity, then cups Keith’s face and looks deep into his eyes. “You are dear to me, and I hold you close to my heart. When we are apart I count the ticks to the moment we meet again.”

The warmth seeping through the bond gets an edge of _please accept it and let it go_ , and though it’s not an I-love-you, Keith smiles, accepting Zarkon’s words and the warmth and affection of their bond.

Zarkon pulls back, satisfied that Keith is satisfied, and turns to leave the bathroom. “Should I pick you clothes to wear, or can you manage it on your own?”

Keith laughs. “I thought you like me walking around naked — sorry, crawling around naked.”

“If you insist,” Zarkon replies, stopping at the door. “Should I find you a blindfold again? Though I should inform you Lotor is most likely arriving today, so take that into consideration.”

“Clothes are fine,” Keith says. Zarkon inclines his head and leaves Keith in the bathroom.

 

* * *

 

It takes a lot to convince Haala to come see Shiro, and even more to convince him to take him to Keith’s door. Well, Zarkon’s door, Shiro supposes. The room Keith is staying in. With Zarkon.

Haala grumbles under his breath the whole way there, his shoulders tense and his ears tilted back in a way that briefly makes Shiro think of Keith, but it’s most likely  because Keith is Shiro’s reference point to Galran ear reading; comparison’s are bound to happen.

When they reach the door to Zarkon’s (Keith’s?) room, Haala puts his hand on the panel next to the door briefly, almost angrily, then he crosses his arms and steps back.

A moment passes, then Keith opens the door, his eyes a little too wide, his ears twitching. “What?”

Shiro’s gaze flickers to the deep red robe with intricate golden embroidery Keith has wrapped himself in. It’s too big for Keith, even if the sleeves are purposefully wide; it’s just too big on Keith to ever fit him well. Keith pulls the robe tighter around himself and clears his throat.

“He wanted to see you,” Haala says and points at Shiro. “I’ve got more important things to do than to deal with your threesome.”

Keith’s face falls, but Haala is already heading down the hallway, and soon he disappears around a corner.

Shiro shifts. “I was just... I heard we might be getting back to the Castleship soon?”

Keith blinks, then nods and looks over his shoulder. “I’m letting Shiro in!” He pulls Shiro through the door almost as soon as the words are out of his mouth, and he closes the door while Shiro eyes the room he’s in.

It’s oddly cozy: There are potted plants and book on shelves, as well as a few books and pads scattered across the tables and on the couch, and though the space is tidy, there’s a lived in quality to it that surprises Shiro — a kind of a warmth lingering in the air.

“I think you can sit by the table,” Keith says as he strides towards the couch.

Shiro nods and takes a tentative step towards the table. He barely gets another step in when Zarkon joins them, dressed in dark clothes that Shiro suspects are as close to casual as Zarkon will ever get, and the lack of the cape he always seems to wear makes him seem... smaller, somehow; more like a normal person. He still looks ill, but his eyes are sharp and he’s breathing easier, and he’s carrying clothes folded over one arm.

Zarkon narrows his eyes at Shiro, then turns to Keith. “I have told you I do not want him here.”

Keith sighs and turns from the couch and heads to the cabinet behind the table Shiro still hasn’t reached. Keith rummages through the cabinets, pulling out a bottle. He waves it at Shiro who shakes his head, then at Zarkon who only narrows his eyes. Keith grabs two glasses and fills them with light blue liquid.

“He wants to talk to you,” Keith says as he sets the bottle back in the cabinet. “You’re the one who knows when Lotor is coming here.”

“He has not specified a time besides either the last quarter or the first of tomorrow,” Zarkon replies. “Now he can leave.”

Keith waves Shiro to sit at the table.

“No,” Zarkon says.

“Yes,” Keith replies and takes a sip from one glass. “Unless you’d rather I go to the hallway with him.” He sets the other glass on the table and — very purposefully — heads towards the door, the hem of the robe dragging across the floor.

“You are not taking that anywhere.”

Keith turns, raising an eyebrow. “Should I go out there naked then?”

Zarkon narrows his eyes, and Keith huffs before turning to Shiro. “Just sit down, would you?”

Shiro follows Keith to the table and sits on the chair Keith points him to while Keith picks up the glass he’d left there and takes it to Zarkon. “Just take it, stop looking so sour, and sit down. I’ll take him away in a moment, okay?”

To Shiro’s surprise, Zarkon takes the glass and sets it on the small table by the couch, but rather than sitting down he drapes the clothes he’s holding on the back of the couch. Keith turns to offer Shiro a smile, and Shiro returns it to the best of his abilities. He’s anxious, but watching Keith and Zarkon interact always makes him stop and take a double look, even when he’d rather not be near Zarkon.

It’s just never what Shiro expects. He expects Zarkon to tell Keith what to do and for Keith to do it without complaint, but Keith talks back. He expects Zarkon to tell Keith no, but Keith ignores him and makes Zarkon accept it, and it makes no sense. Zarkon lets Keith have his way, and Keith... Keith doesn’t act like someone who has been abused or brainwashed — at least in Shiro’s mind; he can’t imagine Zarkon molding Keith into someone who talks back so much.

Keith takes another sip of his wine and sets the glass down on the table before turning to Zarkon. “What did you pick?”

Zarkon selects a deep red shirt with silver embroidery running down from the neck, around the front and to the hemline of the back and holds it up, his expression thoughtful. “Start with this.”

Keith moves forward and takes the shirt, and stands aside while Zarkon returns to studying the assortment of clothes before him.

“I was thinking more along the line of underwear,” Keith says. “At least for starters.”

Zarkon stops comparing three pair of pants and turns to Keith, his eyes minutely widened. “You were in the closet for several dobashes.”

Keith sets the shirt down. “You said you’d pick my clothes.”

“You are capable of picking your own underwear,” Zarkon points out.

Keith huffs and spreads his arms, then heads to the other room, leaving Zarkon and Shiro alone. Zarkon takes the opportunity to spare Shiro a disapproving look. Shiro ignores it the best he can; reminding himself that Keith wouldn’t want him to fight with Zarkon helps.

A minute later Keith returns, tying his hair up with a ribbon. He’s still draped in the robe — it must be Zarkon’s as he was the one who didn’t want the robe dragging across the hallway floor and it’s definitely too big to be Keith’s. He walks up to the couch and picks the red shirt up again, and studies it. “This is new?”

“Yes,” Zarkon replies.

Keith sets the shirt down gently, then takes his glass and takes a drink of the wine.

“You need to take that off,” Zarkon says, giving the robe a pointed look.

 _“_ I like it,” Keith says, setting the glass down, and as if to prove his point, pulls the collar higher and presses his face into it, taking a deep breath.

“Nevertheless, you cannot keep it on.”

Keith makes a face at Zarkon and flashes Shiro a brief smile before shrugging the robe off and placing it on the couch. Shiro averts his eyes from Keith’s naked body, uncomfortable with looking at Keith while he hops into his underwear. Zarkon holds another shirt — dark and silvery blue this time — against Keith, not caring one bit that Keith isn’t wearing anything.

“Try this one first,” Zarkon tells Keith and tosses the shirt to him as soon as Keith has pulled his underwear on.

Keith puts the shirt on without a word, then turns slowly around to let Zarkon study him. Keith flashes Shiro another smile, so clearly amused and content in the situation that Shiro can’t help but smile back in return, his own opinions of Zarkon dressing Keith up like a doll be damned.

Keith has barely finished his slow twirl when Zarkon orders him to put the red shirt on instead. Keith takes the silvery blue shirt off and folds it before setting it aside, then he takes a sip of his wine before pulling the red shirt on. He turns around again, raising an eyebrow at Zarkon.

“I like that better,” Shiro offers, regretting it when Zarkon throws him a warning look.

But Keith grins at him. “Finally you two agree on something.”

Shiro has no idea how Keith would know that Zarkon prefers the red shirt as well — as far as Shiro can tell his expression has remained equally critical at all times — but he takes Keith’s word for it.

Zarkon hands Keith a pair of pants that Keith dutifully puts on, and once he’s presented himself to Zarkon, Keith turns to Shiro, his expression questioning. Shiro nods in approval and Keith smiles.

“Shoes?” Keith asks.

“You may select whichever you want to wear,” Zarkon replies, then waves at the clothes spread on the couch. “Take these with you.”

Keith collects the clothes and takes them away. Zarkon takes the opportunity to pick up the book from the couch and sit down with it and his glass of wine. Shiro shifts, wondering if he should say something but unable to come up with anything that doesn’t sound silly in some way.

Moments later, Keith returns, but he heads straight to the other door at the far end of the room and disappears through it. He stays in that room for a minute, then returns again, this time carrying a hairbrush and a small box. He nudges Zarkon’s knee, and once Zarkon moves his leg Keith sits on the ground by his feet, handing the brush and the box to him.

Keith smiles at Shiro while Zarkon undoes the bun Keith had tied his hair up in and starts brushing Keith’s hair.

“Sam must be excited to get to the Castleship,” Keith says.

“Yeah. I think Pidge and Hunk have talked about the ship enough for him to want to take it apart with them.” Shiro smiles, lost in thought for a moment. “We’ll be lucky to have a bathroom to use after they’re done tinkering with the ship.”

Keith laughs. “Yeah. Just don’t let them get to the Lions.”

Zarkon puts the brush aside and takes a few pins and a thin chain with golden pearls. He pulls Keith’s hair back and pins the chain to Keith’s hair near his temple before he begins to braid Keith’s hair, starting at Keith’s forehead, the chain weaving into the braid seamlessly.

It’s odd enough on its own, but the braid Zarkon makes is raised rather than the kind Shiro saw so often in the Garrison. When he reaches the back of Keith’s head, Zarkon nudges Keith until he turns so that Zarkon can braid the rest of his hair to fall over his shoulder. Once he’s tied the braid, he allows Keith to sit straight again.

Keith spares Shiro a smile and an eye roll, like having the Galra Emperor do his hair is the most mundane thing ever. Zarkon pulls at the braid with pins, making it appear even bigger than it is.

“Satisfied?” Keith tilts his head back to look at Zarkon, who studies Keith with a critical eye for a moment before setting the pin aside and inclining his head. Keith stands and takes the box and the brush from Zarkon, then he leans down to nuzzle Zarkon’s cheek before taking the things back to the room where he got them from.

Zarkon takes the time to drink his wine and open his book again.

When Keith returns, he slumps on the couch, half on top of Zarkon. “So, if Lotor comes today, will they be leaving today as well? Or tomorrow since he’s coming here so late?”

“Lotor claims he has something he wishes to go over with me, so I doubt that will be the case,” Zarkon replies without taking his eyes off his book.

Keith hums and picks at the seam of Zarkon’s coat. After a few seconds he turns to Shiro. “You sure you don’t want wine or something?”

“I’m good,” Shiro assures him.

“If you’re sure,” Keith says. He sits up just enough to be able to gulp his wine down in one go. He sets the glass down, presses a kiss on the corner of Zarkon’s mouth, and rolls off the couch and joins Shiro at the table. “I suppose I should be taking you away before he gets offended by your smell or something.”

“I am afraid it is too late for that,” Zarkon says. Keith rolls his eyes again, shaking his head affectionately.

“Come on.” Keith tugs at Shiro’s shirt to get him to stand. The ship shudders softly, and while Shiro doesn’t think too much of it, Keith and Zarkon still, both of them tense, listening to something.

Zarkon stands in one fast, fluid motion and strides to the door. Keith hurries after him, and Shiro follows.

Zarkon leads them to an elevator, and then takes them to a floor Shiro has never been to before. They stride down an empty hallway until they reach the end of it, and the doors there open for Zarkon without him having to do anything.

To Shiro’s surprise, they enter a wide, open bridge, and the crew — all masked and dressed like the guards Shiro has seen around — are working quietly at their stations. The glow from the computers and the lights on the walls shine electric blue and purple, but the space still has a dimness to it.

“What happened?” Zarkon asks — demands, really.

“A ship appeared in our sensors,” one of the bridge staff replies. Shiro assumes she’s the one in charge, and after a moment his belief only strengthens when one of the crew calls her commander.

Zarkon strides to her side to study her computer screen, while Keith and Shiro stay back, standing side by side. Shiro spares Keith a glance, not surprised to see concern marring his features.

Keith shifts and takes Shiro’s hand in his own, his touch light. Shiro fixes it by gripping Keith’s hand as tightly as he dares. Zarkon heads from one station to another, studying readings and scans, asking questions when he wants clarification on something.

“Can you see the ship?” Zarkon asks as he stops at the front of the room, in front of the large screen — or perhaps it’s a window — displaying a gas giant and the asteroids around it, readings and graphics popping up here and there as information is projected onto the view.

“Yes, sire.”

Within seconds, the screen zoom in on a seemingly empty part of the space. Shiro frowns, but then he sees it, the familiar oil spill like ripple in space, and his muscles lock up. Keith turns to him, but Shiro is already moving forward, his hand almost slipping from Keith’s. Keith follows Shiro, holding onto his hand stubbornly.

“That’s the ship that attacked us,” Shiro says.

Zarkon turns to him, annoyance clear on his face, but Shiro ignores him. “That’s the ship that drained the Lions and later attacked the Castleship.”

Zarkon studies Shiro, his expression unreadable, then turns back to the screen. Shiro opens his mouth to argue, but Keith nudges his shoulder and shakes his head minutely.

“Take us into the gas giant,” Zarkon orders.

The officers do as they are told and the ship enters the gas giant, the readings on the screens flickering, the display on the large screen growing static.

“Our sensors cannot function here,” the commander says. “This action is not wise.”

Zarkon ignores her. “Charge the ion cannons.”

The commander takes a step forward. “Sire, that is — “

“I know the risks of firing in a gas giant,” Zarkon cuts in, his voice hard, and turns to give the commander a displeased look. “I will request your opinion when I deem it is needed.”

The commander bows and remains silent when Zarkon inquires about the cannon again.

“It’s loaded and ready, but...” the officer on Zarkon’s left fiddles with his controls. “We can’t aim it.”

Zarkon moves to the officer who steps aside, and lets Zarkon fiddle with the controls. “Get a visual on the ship,” he orders, and the officers hurry to comply.

Keith and Shiro share a glance, but neither one of them dare to break the silence of the bridge to ask what’s going on.

The ship shudders, but nobody reacts to it.

“Shields are holding,” someone says seconds later.

Zarkon’s attention is on the large screen and the grainy image of the ship flickering in and out of focus. Shiro has no idea what Zarkon intends to do with it, or whether he expects the ship to come closer or stay at the edges of the gas giant as it passes, but Shiro’s of the opinion the best thing for them to do is wait the ship out and let it pass.

But instead of waiting the ship to pass, Zarkon fires on it, the gas around the bright beam igniting, creating explosions in its wake, making their ship shake violently and alarms ring as the shields take heavy damage. And, by some miracle, the beam hits the cloaked ship’s rear, leaving it visible and incapacitated at the edges of the gas giant.

Shiro’s jaw drops, but he snaps it shut before anyone can notice.

 _“_ Bring it in,” Zarkon commands, then turns on his heels, his eyes landing on Keith. He quirks an eyebrow, and Keith smiles.

 _“_ Okay, I’m impressed,” Keith says, affectionate laughter in his voice. “You’ve got amazing aim and you didn’t blow us up.”

Zarkon stands a little straighter, something like a smile tugging at his lips. “I am aware of that.”

Keith snorts and lets go of Shiro’s hand, and when Zarkon heads out of the doors, Keith hurries after him. Shiro follows them all the way to the hangar Zarkon leads them.

The hangar is full of druids and officers, all hovering around the ship they’d reeled in as they left the gas giant.

Now that Shiro can see the ship, he can’t stop himself from taking a moment to study it; it’s streamlined and egg-white with dark gray detailing under the blackened marks the Galran weapon had left on it. It’s not much bigger than a shuttle, but Shiro can’t see a clear window or engines, and it takes him a moment to spot a seam on the hull that could be a door.

Zarkon holds Keith back, pushing him behind himself while the officers force the ship’s doors open. Shiro stops at the sight; Zarkon physically shielding Keith from possible danger wasn’t something he thought he’d ever see.

The officers force their way into the ship and rush back while the druids and the guards with weapons at ready step forward, ready to take on anyone who might be in the ship.

But no one comes out.

Slowly, Zarkon walks closer to the ship, with Keith glued to his back and Shiro by his side.

The ship has a design to it that briefly reminds Shiro of the Castelship, but it’s more advanced, more... dark. It’s not just the colors, it’s the air in the ship; it has an element to it that makes the hairs on the back of Shiro's neck stand on edge. Even Keith seems ready to bolt, his tail twitching anxiously from side to side, though he toughs it out and sticks to Zarkon’s side.

The ship appears empty, but Shiro doesn’t let himself relax or believe that there wasn’t someone there just moments ago; the two swords with curved blades resting against the seat in the cockpit mean there had to be someone there. It’s not like the ship drifted through space on its own and just happened to run into the one ship Zarkon is on, after all.

Zarkon approaches the swords, brushing his fingers against their handles before picking them up. The swords are beautiful despite being worn from use, and Keith takes a step towards Zarkon, his ears perked, interest clear in his eyes. Even Shiro is curious about the weapons.

Keith’s ears draw back a second before Zarkon turns on his heels and marches out of the ship without a word. Keith rushes after him and Shiro tries to follow, but as soon as they're out of the ship Keith waves at the druids studying the hull and points to Shiro. “Look after him, okay?”

Shiro stops in the middle of the hangar, watching Keith run after Zarkon without another word thrown Shiro’s way.

 

* * *

 

Zarkon closes the elevator doors on Keith, even though he knows Keith is following him. Keith curses, but he doesn't let it stop him. There are other elevators and Zarkon can’t disappear on him; the bond will make sure Keith can find him anywhere.

Keith grumbles under his breath and runs to the elevator further down the hallway. He’ll have to take the long route back to their quarters, but Keith refuses to let it slow him down.

By the time he bursts through the door to their quarters, he’s panting and fuming, but Zarkon is nowhere to be seen. Keith knows he’s there, though; he can feel Zarkon through the bond.

Keith stomps to the bedroom, following the barely there tug of the bond, intending on cornering Zarkon and demeaning an explanation as to why he’d slammed the shields down between them and left Keith behind without a word.

”Okay, what the f —”

Zarkon looks close to hyperventilating, and any anger Keith might have felt evaporates. He rushes to Zarkon, taking a hold of his arms and guiding him to sit on the bed. Zarkon’s clutching the swords to his chest, like he’s afraid Keith will take them from him.

”What’s wrong?” Keith asks, kneeling on the floor before Zarkon. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Zarkon’s so clearly trying to keep himself under control, from breaking, and it breaks Keith’s heart. He doesn’t push Zarkon, knowing it won’t help, but he does keep his hands on Zarkon’s arms, rubbing them soothingly, pushing nothing but warmth and comfort through the bond against Zarkon’s shields, but not so much as to force his way past them.

Eventually Zarkon lowers the shields between them just a fraction to let Keith see the turmoil he’s in.

Keith’s tail wraps around Zarkon’s ankle, and he inches closer to him. “What’s wrong?”

Zarkon closes his eyes and swallows, gripping the hilts of the swords a little tighter even as he tilts them towards Keith. Keith touches the swords, but doesn’t try to take them from Zarkon.

”Did I ever tell you of the Galran-Nalquod war?” Zarkon asks, his voice just a bit too casual, his expression tense.

Keith shakes his head.

”It was an ongoing thing for years, decades, really. It was mostly tension between our people, with the occasional skirmish here and there by the time I took the throne, so when Nalquod changed leadership as well,  I suggested we seize the hostilities. It was unnecessary drain on our resources by that time anyways, we had won.”

Zarkon pulls the swords closer, and Keith returns his hands on Zarkon’s arms.

”Blaytz... he agreed, and we reached an understanding. It is — it _was_ — customary for his people to exchange gifts during such important events, and since I had destroyed his sword some time ago I thought” — Zarkon shifts and clears his throat — “I through a replacement might be an appropriate gift to give.”

Keith’s gaze flickers to the swords in Zarkon’s hands. “You mean...”

Zarkon fiddles with the swords, distress dripping through the bond. “I have trouble understanding how this could have happened.”

Keith frowns, then takes the swords — scimitars by Earth standards — from Zarkon despite his protests. “No, you’re going to calm down.” He levels Zarkon with a hard look before taking the swords to the other room, then he returns and guides Zarkon to lean against the headboard of the bed. Keith sits on the edge of the bed, studying Zarkon closely. “I’m gonna need you to be honest with me, okay?”

“I am always honest with you.”

Keith’s ears flatten. “You know what I mean.”

Zarkon looks chastised, and inclines his head.

Keith bites his lip, his tail thumping against the bed. “What happened to the original Paladins?”

Zarkon looks away, and Keith gives him a moment.

“It was... my people had nothing. We had no home, no resources, we only had a few military vessels as well as the kind of ships we used for scientific missions since Honerva had desired we do more on that area, and a handful of civilian transport ships. War would have been unwise.” Zarkon straightens his coat, and Keith touches his hand softly. “I made a general broadcast across the planets my people had been scattered on, telling them of what had truly happened, of how Alfor had stolen the Black Lion and destroyed our home with the help of — of the others. At the time I simply wanted my people back.”

“That’s understandable,” Keith says, offering Zarkon a smile.

“The civilians, not only my people but many of the outsiders around them, sided with us.”

Keith’s eyebrows shoot up. “Really?”

Zarkon inclines his head. “I know the Princess must have told you a different kind of story, but the relations between the five of us at that time were strained at best. Daibazaal and Altea had cut all contact at that point, and the others had sided with Alfor. We were closer to a war than any of us would have liked to admit, and our people knew it.”

Keith takes a slow breath, as he thinks about it. “People thought that they had destroyed Daibazaal and tried to kill you on purpose to stop the war from happening?”

“I did not dissuade that belief,” Zarkon admits. “It benefited me greatly.”

“You’re not answering my question,” Keith points out.

“You want to know if I killed them when I took control of their planets,” Zarkon says, and though Keith hates to admit it, he inclines his head. “I did not,” Zarkon admits.

It surprises Keith, and it must show on his face. It definitely drips through the bond.

Zarkon sighs. “It would have given their people a reason to object to us taking over their planets; the transition was not easy as it was, and there were many that fled to other parts of galaxies, though as many chose to stay with us. Blaytz, Trigel and Gyrgan joined forces and approached me to discuss the matter, but... we apprehended them with as little harm to them as possible. Alfor and the Alteans were the only ones who did not attempt to contact me in any way or apologize for what they had done, but they have always been stuck in their ways, obsessive in their belief that they cannot do wrong.”

Keith nods when Zarkon falls silent, more to encourage Zarkon to continue than from agreement. “So, Alfor is dead?”

“They are all dead by now.”

“Okay, let me rephrase that, are they dead because of you?”

“That is a complicated question,” Zarkon replies, sparing Keith a glance.

“Uncomplicate it.”

Zarkon sigh, looking sad all of the sudden. “I captured them, even Alfor since he knew where the Black Lion was, and I intended for him to tell me. The others... it was to please their people, to make the transition of power easier. But — to answer your question — they attempted an escape. Blaytz did get a hold of the swords — he never left behind — and they managed to get to a shuttle.”

Keith waits a moment, but Zarkon doesn’t continue. “And?”

“I have told you there were several meteor showers and micro rifts open during that time, correct?”

Keith nods.

“We were studying such a rift when they escaped, to see if we could utilize the energy of it to power our ships more efficiently as we were having some trouble finding a good, efficient power source that we could utilize since Alfor destroyed most of our natural resources, even the ones away from Daibazaal — though that was after I detained the others — in an attempt to keep us from being able to get back to our feet. When they fled with the shuttle I fired upon them, attempting to disable the shuttle.”

“Did you blow it up?” Keith asks.

Zarkon spares him an unimpressed look. “Of course not, I disabled the engines as I planned, but the rift pulled them in, and... we believe the shuttle was destroyed. It crashed into the rift and we do not believe it was large enough to suck them in, yet the shuttle disappeared. It must have been destroyed on contact; the rift tore it to shreds.”

Keith frowns. “But if Blaytz had his swords when his shuttle was obliterated, how are they now drifting in space on a ship that’s been attacking everyone in the universe and no one knows how to fight?”

Zarkon shifts, growing visibly uncomfortable again. “I cannot answer that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm gonna be slow on updates for a few weeks while I focus on writing (and getting rid of this damn flu) rather than editing and posting, so I'm gonna be posting a chapter every time I reach a writing goal that I'll determine when I start writing. It'll probably be 'post a new chapter when you finish a new chapter', but we'll see.
> 
> Oh! I should mention that while I have thought about what really happened to the og paladins and their people for well over a year now, I recently (a month or so ago) saw a post on Pillowfort (I think) that had a really similar premise and I'm an idiot and I forgot to save that meta because I just briefly skimmed over it and went 'cool, someone else seems to have thought about this the same way I did so it's not as farfetched as I thought it was and I won't look like I'm just making stuff up when I write it into the story'. If you know the post I'm talking about, please let me know if you remember who wrote it because it pains me that I didn't give it more than a cursory glance and then forgot to save it to read later to see how similar our takes on what happened to the original paladins and their people is.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here's a chapterful of Lotor because I love him.

Lotor does not look forward to talking with his father after their last encounter mere weeks ago, but it cannot be helped. He can barely remember the last time they spent so much time on the same ship, let alone face to face, and as far as he is concerned, they should go back to ignoring each other sooner rather than later. Lotor checks his report for the last time, then heads to his father’s quarters. He takes a deep breath and relaxes his shoulders before pressing the intercom and waiting for it to beep.

When it does, Lotor opens the door and steps in.

Keith is there, sitting at the table with a glass in his hands, and he spares Lotor a smile that Lotor returns just to be polite. His father is on the couch staring at a book, his expression tense and displeased.

Lotor walks up to him and offers him the pad. “I have compiled a report of everything going on in the Empire, including troop movements, agricultural reports, an analysis of the current political environment and the plan to evacuate the civilians from the outer sectors.”

His father snatches the pad from him and Lotor takes a step back. He clasps his hands behind his back to keep himself from fidgeting as he waits for the judgment and criticism he’s sure to receive.

“Lotor?”

Lotor turns to Keith, politely curious as to what he wants.

Keith pushes the chair next to his out from under the table. “Sit down.”

After glancing his father, Lotor does just that. Keith smiles when Lotor sits next to him, but Lotor does not understand why.

“How have you been?” Keith asks.

Lotor doesn’t show his confusion when he answers; “Quite well, thank you.”

Keith nods. “You’re taking Shiro and the others back to the Castleship?”

“Yes, as soon as we can leave.” Lotor does not understand why Keith is questioning him, especially since he cannot see or hear anything behind his words; there is no secret agenda there, at least not one Lotor can see. But Keith is still linked to his father — something Lotor tries not to think about too much — so he cannot be certain.

“Just remind them to actually be there when you leave, Hunk and Pidge are trying to get a peek at the ship we reeled in; they might forget.”

“I’ll do that,” Lotor promises.

“How old is this information?” Zarkon cuts in, his voice sharp in the way it always is when he thinks Lotor has failed in some simple task.

“I checked everything myself just this morning,” Lotor replies, doing his best not to tense.

It becomes increasingly hard as his father frowns, first at Lotor and then at the pad. Lotor bites his tongue and waits for the scolding, for his father to tear his report to shreds in a few ticks without any regard for the days Lotor spend working on it, but he remains silent, though his ears tilt down just a fraction — enough to make Lotor consider leaving.

Lotor looks away, his gaze landing on Keith who, to Lotor’s surprise, is glaring at Zarkon. It takes a tick for Lotor to remember the bond the two of them share, and he cannot help but wonder what is passing between them.

A few ticks later Keith turns to Lotor, his expression softening into a small smile. “Can I get you anything? Tea, maybe?”

“Tea would be nice, thank you,” Lotor replies.

Keith stands and gets them tea, even handing Zarkon a cup. Lotor is pleased to find Keith hasn’t sweetened his tea, though he does wait until Lotor takes a sip of his tea and offers Keith an approving bow of his head before sitting back down.

They drink their tea in silence while Zarkon finishes reading the report. He is done with it sooner than Lotor would prefer, and if the disappointed sigh is anything to go by, his father is not happy — not that Lotor expected any different.

Lotor prepares for the scolding he knows is coming while his father sets the pad down and picks his cup of tea up a little too calmly. “I do not see the logic in evacuating the Koyron system first.”

Lotor inclines his head in acknowledgment, forcing himself to stay calm. “They are on the farthest edges of the Empire, so should they fall under an attack help would take longer to send.”

“They have some of the best defensive capabilities in the colonies; they maintain ships, they have a small fleet surrounding them at any given time, and the colonies have excellent long range sensors and defenses,” his father points out.

Lotor busies himself by taking a long drink of his tea before answering. “This enemy attacking us is capable of — “

“You should concern yourself with the Szenti belt; they cannot defend themselves and should anyone attack them, they would be dead before you could send help to them,” Zarkon continues. “Furthermore, your financial plan is going to get us killed; we are under attack, we need to focus on ensuring our survival, not funding agricultural experiments.”

Lotor looks down, despite himself. His father stands and goes to refill his tea cup. He then sets the cup down on the table by the couch, but he does not sit down. “And what you have done to the Empire as a whole is — “

“Okay.” Keith slams his tea cup down on the table and stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “Stop being such a bitch, would you?”

Lotor starts, his eyes widening. Even his father looks shocked at Keith’s intervention.

“I beg your pardon?”

“You’re looking for reasons to be mean to him.” Keith lifts a finger when Zarkon tries to argue. “No, you are. You don’t have to be so harsh and you know it, so cut it out and shut up if you don’t have anything actually constructive or nice to say.”

Lotor stares at Keith, unable to fully process what is going on. His father recovers first, and he is not happy with Keith’s insolence.

“This does not concern you,” Zarkon says in that tone that would shut Lotor up before things got worse. But Keith steps forward, his ears flat, a low growl escaping his lips.

If Lotor was any poorer in controlling his expression, his jaw would drop when his father takes a small step back. His father never back down, not even in the face of the Witch’s wrath.

“How about you sit down and shut up until you can act like a decent person?” Keith snaps. When Zarkon does not move, Keith points at the couch. “Sit. Down.  _ Now, _ ” he grits through his teeth.

And Zarkon sits down. Keith stares at him for a moment, then strides to snatch the pad from him, his expression dark as he returns to the table and Lotor. He sets the pad down on the table, and offers Lotor a forced smile as he sits down. “Explain this to me?”

Lotor blinks, then glances at his father who is scowling at his tea cup, then he gives Keith a general explanation of everything in his report. Keith asks questions and challenges Lotor’s ideas when he sees fit, but he never turns them down without hearing Lotor’s reasoning first.

While Lotor finds Keith’s understanding of agriculture and politics lacking, his tactical understanding of war and conflict is something Lotor appreciates.

They get a full fifteen dobashes of undisturbed debate in before his father decides to talk up again, and Lotor tenses. Even Keith’s ears flatten.

“You failed to clarify the reason for the recent fracturing of the military, specifically what happened on Mekos — which you lost.”

Lotor and Keith share a look. Neither one of them wants to tell Zarkon what had happened, exactly.

“Zykov chose not to follow my orders, even after I told him of the consequences,” Lotor replies.

His father narrows his eyes, his attention shifting to Keith. “You are lying.”

“He’s not,” Keith says.

“Omitting a fact, then.”

“A very minor fact that doesn’t have any meaning in the grand scheme of things,” Keith replies just a little too fast.

Zarkon gets that disappointed look that always makes Lotor avert his eyes — the specific way the corners of his mouth tilt down, the slight furrowing of his brow and the way his lips narrow — but Keith doesn’t budge. As Lotor expects, his father sighs, long-suffering and displeased.

And Keith looks down.

Zarkon looks just a bit more disappointed, and Lotor bites his lip to keep himself from telling his father what happened.

Keith is not quite so good at keeping quiet. “Zykov said some things that might construct as insulting, if you choose to take them that way.”

“Such as?”

“Just something about half-breeds, nothing new,” Keith replies, his inability to meet Zarkon’s eyes and the twitching of his ears giving away the lie. For a moment Lotor wonders how such a bad liar has managed to survive so long without dying.

“Keith?” The warning in his father’s voice makes Lotor sit straighter and consider the benefits of simply telling the truth.

“It’s not important,” Keith insists.

“Lotor?”

Lotor suppresses a flinch at his father’s tone.

“He called me a child,” Keith says, sparing Lotor a look before turning to Zarkon, fidgeting and twisting his fingers in a way that must be painful. “And he... implied... that, um, that you only keep me around for sex. Possibly because — according to him — I’m a child.”

Lotor studies his father from the corner of his eye, unsure of what to make of his blank expression. Lotor tenses when his father stands and walks up to them, looming over Lotor, making him feel like a child about to be scolded again.

“What did you do with him, exactly?”

Lotor’s ears draw back against his will, and his eyes meet Keith’s briefly. The encouraging look he gets makes it easier for him to face his father. “I told him and his followers that if they raised a hand against Keith they would be considered enemies of the Empire. Zykov attacked nonetheless, and we had a minor altercation during which I cut off his left ear and took his eye out. If I had not been fired upon by three of his lieutenants and forced to take a more defensive position, I’m confident I could have taken him down easily.”

Lotor resists the urge to lean back when his father raises his hand.

And ruffles Lotor’s hair.

Lotor freezes, and even the amused look on Keith’s face doesn’t get him moving again.

“Good,” his father says, and Lotor wonders if he fell through a crack to another universe. His father never praises him, it just does not happen.

“Where are you going?” Keith asks. It takes Lotor a tick to realize Keith isn’t talking to him.

“To commit a violent and public murder,” Zarkon replies from somewhere behind Lotor.

Keith snorts and waves his hand. “Good luck.”

The door opens and closes, and Lotor realizes his father is gone.

_ “ _ You look a little shaken,” Keith says, laughter coloring his voice.

Lotor shakes himself mentally and snaps himself out of his daze. “I am perfectly fine.” He stands, needing to get away from people to properly collect himself in peace. “I must go check on my ship — we have a lot of preparations to do before we can depart.”

Lotor hurries out of the room — without appearing he is hurrying, of course — and heads towards his ship and the safety of his own quarters.

 

* * *

Keith waits for Zarkon to return, and while he waits, he re-reads through the report Lotor had left behind. Voltron should know about this, but with the hustle the strange ship has caused and Shiro and the others leaving soon, Keith won’t have time to brief them on everything — not in a thorough and satisfactory way.

Maybe... no.

It’s ridiculous. Keith can’t do that to Zarkon.

The door opens and closes, but Keith continues to frown at the pad without truly seeing it.

“What are you thinking?” Zarkon asks as he joins Keith on the couch.

“Nothing.” Keith looks up, his shoulders slumping as he sighs. “I should go back with the others — just for a day or two.”

Zarkon’s ears flatten.

“I — “ Keith bites his lip and sets the pad aside. “I don’t want to leave you, but... I think I could use a few day to myself, and I want to make sure my friends get home safely.”

“Lotor will take care of that.”

“Don’t you want to know what Allura and the others have learned? They’ve been working with the Rebellion and the Coalition to figure out who’s attacking everyone and — “

“They cannot tell me anything I do not already know; we have been studying this enemy for several millennia.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow, Haggar’s words about these… people flashing in his mind. “You have?”

“We have been aware of them for centuries, it is only now that they have grown hostile enough for us to truly consider them an issue,” Zarkon replies, then frowns. “And since they are out there, and Lotor has allowed discontent brew in the Empire to a point where my people see it safe to lash out on you, you are staying here where I can protect you.”

“I can take care of myself,” Keith says, but his words lack heat.

“Why do you want to leave?” Zarkon asks, frowning.

“I don’t. I just... I don’t want to cut all ties with my friends. I can’t just abandon them,” Keith replies.

“Why not?”

“Because they’re my friends! You remember those?” Keith bites his lip, already regretting his words.

Zarkon’s jaw tightens. “I do remember what friends are; I remember them destroying my home.”

Keith nods and looks down. “Sorry.”

“The matter is closed, you are not leaving this ship until I deem it safe for you to do so,” Zarkon says, and though Keith wants to argue, he doesn’t.

Keith lets Zarkon dictate how the day goes, and when evening comes Keith sits on the floor by Zarkon’s feet, enjoying it when Zarkon rubs his ear absently.

When Zarkon pulls Keith on the couch and takes Keith’s clothes off, kissing his way down Keith’s body, Keith focuses on enjoying himself and nothing else. Afterwards, he runs his claws up and down Zarkon’s neck while Zarkon rests his head on Keith’s chest, purring softly.

Later, after they’ve showered and Zarkon is too tired to stay up any longer, Keith curls up next to him in bed, reading a book while Zarkon drifts to sleep, thinking of ways to leave with the others without hurting Zarkon.

 

* * *

Keith settles on sneaking out and leaving Zarkon a note promising he’ll be back before the week ends — somehow.

The others are understandably excited to go back to the Castleship, but even if Keith has decided to go with them, he can’t share their joy. He already misses Haala and Marzila, and especially Zarkon. He even misses Haggar, in a way.

“How long will you be staying?” Shiro asks.

“A few days, just long enough to debrief you on some stuff and to get the rest of my things,” Keith replies. “I’m gonna need a lift back to the Empire.”

Shiro’s expression darkens, but he doesn’t say anything. They join the Holts and Hunk at the airlock where they are waiting to board Lotor’s ship.

Shiro smiles at them. “Ready to go?”

Hunk and Matt nod.

“I’m looking forward to seeing this Castle of Lions of yours,” Sam says. He’s finally starting to relax — perhaps due to finally leaving the Galra behind.

“It’s awesome,” Pidge pipes in, her eyes gleaming with excitement. “I’m gonna show you everything and — “

“She will,” Matt cuts in, barely containing laughter. “She’s gonna drag you across the ship and show you  _ every single thing _ there is to see.”

Sam smiles and turns to Pidge. “Well, I’m looking forward to seeing it all.”

Pidge looks ready to launch into a detailed explanation of the tour Sam is going to get when Lotor joins them, a carefully polite expression on his face. “Are you ready to leave?”

“Yes,” Shiro replies readily. “I think we’ve been ready to go for days now.”

“Yeah, because the druids didn’t let us study the ship they found,” Pidge mutters, getting agreeing grumbles from Hunk and Matt.

Keith smiles, just a little. They start picking their bags from the floor and shuffling towards the airlock.

“ _ Keith _ !”

Keith flinches at the sound of Zarkon’s voice, his shoulders drawing up to his flattened ears. “Shit.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow, but Keith only shakes his head and drops his bag on the ground. He turns on his heels and strides to Zarkon, his mind racing with excuses.

“You are not leaving this ship,” Zarkon states as soon as Keith reaches him, his expression as angry as his voice.

“Yes I am,” Keith replies, lifting a hand before Zarkon can chew his head off. “I’m going for just a few days, you can live without me for that long.”

“You are not leaving, and that is final,” Zarkon snaps.

Keith frowns. “Am I a prisoner again?”

Zarkon seems taken aback, but he recovers quickly. “Of course not.”

“Then I can come and go as I please, right? You can handle a few days without me here.”

“That is not the issue here — “

“Then what is?” Keith pouts, he knows it, but he can’t stop himself.

“I cannot protect you if you are not here,” Zarkon replies, something like distress dripping through the bond.

Keith’s anger at the situation vanishes. “I can take care of myself.”

“I do not want you gone,” Zarkon says.

Keith smiles and cups Zarkon’s face, pulling him down until their noses bump together. “I’m not gonna leave you, okay? Ever. But I need to do this, and you need to let me do this, and let me come back on my own terms.”

“You wanted to come back before,” Zarkon points out.

Keith sighs, letting his hands fall to his sides. He’s not sure he can ever make Zarkon understand his point, but he has to try. “I need to be able to come back to you without anyone coercing me or threatening to hurt my friends or anything. Just... let me go and decide to come back, and when I do be there to welcome me home, okay? No Haggar threatening anyone or you holding a planet hostage or anything; just my own initiative. I need this.”

Keith doesn’t need the bond to know Zarkon hates the idea of Keith going for any reason, and he hates not having a guarantee Keith will return — that he has to trust Keith to do so on his own.

Keith glances over his shoulder, at Hunk and Shiro still waiting for him. The others have already gone through the airlock to Lotor’s ship.

“I need to do this.” Keith returns his attention to Zarkon. “I love you, but I need to do this.”

Zarkon frowns, then sighs, and hands Keith his bayard. “I want you back by the end of the week. And do not let him have that.” He nods towards Shiro, his tone hard.

Keith takes the bayard and inclines his head, then throws his hands around Zarkon’s neck and kisses him, not caring if they have an audience. To his delight and surprise, Zarkon takes Keith’s face in his hands and kisses him back, even if it’s only for a few ticks.

Zarkon presses their foreheads together, his eyes closed but warmth flooding through the bond. “Come back to me.”

“Always,” Keith promises.

Pulling away from Zarkon is the hardest thing Keith has ever done, but somehow he does it. Zarkon walks him to the airlock, his hand resting on the small of Keith’s back. Keith picks his bag up and gives Zarkon one last hug before heading through the airlock with Hunk in front of him and Shiro behind him.

But Zarkon grabs Shiro’s throat before he can enter the airlock. Keith drops his bag and turns to scowl Zarkon, but since Zarkon isn’t actually hurting Shiro and he assures Keith he won’t through the bond, he doesn’t intervene.

Yet.

Zarkon leans closer to Shiro, his expression dangerously neutral. “If he gets even a single scratch on him, I will hunt you down and cut off your eyelids so that you will not miss even a tick of your friends dying on the Arena as you should have done, after which I will tear your spine out with my bare claws and hang it on my wall. Is that clear?”

Shiro does his best to nod, his eyes a little too wide to not give out how alarmed he is. “Yes. Perfectly clear.”

Zarkon narrows his eyes, then lets go of Shiro’s neck and straightens up. He smiles at Keith, who smiles back, exasperated and fond at the same time. Shiro hurries past Keith, sparing him a questioning look as he goes, but Keith only shakes his head.

After a moment Keith waves his hand at Zarkon, mouthing one last goodbye before following Shiro, the airlock doors shutting behind him and separating him from Zarkon.

 

* * *

Shiro rubs his throat as he settles in the room he shares with Hunk — again. He’s lost in thought, taken aback by Zarkon’s protectiveness over Keith. It’s not what he expected. It makes no sense — Zarkon’s treatment of Keith as a whole makes no sense.

He was supposed to order Keith around, to not let Keith do anything Keith wanted to do. Keith wasn’t supposed to be comfortable talking back to Zarkon or dismissing him out of hand, or roll his eyes when Zarkon says things that make chills run down Shiro’s spine.

They weren’t supposed to be like that.

Shiro pushes himself up and hurries towards Keith’s room. They need to talk.

Shiro’s just about to round a corner when he runs into Lotor, the collision sending both of them staggering back. Shiro grabs Lotor’s arm, steadying him as much as himself. “Sorry.”

“It is alright, though in the future you should watch where you’re going,” Lotor replies, brushing his uniform down.

Shiro rubs his neck. “Still.”

Lotor drops his hands to his sides and smiles politely. “Can I do something for you?”

“No, I’m just going to see Keith,” Shiro replies.

Lotor glances at the hallway behind him. “I believe he is in the kitchen. I saw him heading that way a moment ago, and Acxa said he had inquired after tea some time ago.”

Shiro nods. “Thanks. I’ll check if he’s there.”

Lotor doesn’t move when Shiro steps around him, but he does keep an eye on Shiro, his expression unreadable but not in a way that makes Shiro feel like he should worry. Quite the contrary; his cheeks heat up under the scrutiny.

“I should go.”

“How is your arm?” Lotor asks. “I trust the Witch fixed it.”

Shiro stops, glancing down at his Galran arm. “It’s fine now.”

“You understand I did not cause you harm out of malice; it was... a tactical decision, if you will.” Lotor tilts his head, and his smile seems genuine enough.

Shiro crosses his arms and studies Lotor for a few long seconds before replying. “I understand that, what I don’t understand is why you’re suddenly so concerned about it.”

Lotor’s smile gains a secretive edge, and he walks away without answering Shiro.

Shiro stares after him, incredulous and unsure if he should be worried or curious. After a few seconds Shiro shakes it off and heads to the kitchen.

As Lotor had said, Keith is there, waiting for the water for his tea to boil. Shiro isn’t sure why Keith boils his water when the Galra, just like the Alteans, have technology to just get hot water in a mug, but he’s not going to judge Keith for it.

Shiro clears his throat and Keith jumps a little. He rubs his face before turning around, and the smile he offers Shiro is wobbly and forced at best.

“You okay?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah.” Keith nods, but his voice betrays the fact he’s been crying. “I’m fine. I just... I’m fine.”

“Keith.” Shiro walks closer to him, growing worried.

“I’m okay. It just hit me that I’m not gonna see Zarkon for a while and I’m just coming to terms with that,” Keith assures him, turning around when the kettle clicks, signaling the water is at optimal heat.

Shiro studies the tense set of Keith’s shoulders while Keith selects his tea brew and adds the tea leaves into the water. Shiro bridges the distance between them, and wraps his arms around Keith, holding him close. “Okay?”

Keith sighs and leans into Shiro. “Yeah.”

Shiro presses a kiss on Keith’s jaw, relishing in the way it makes Keith smile for a second. He forgets all about why he even searched for Keith in the first place, focusing on comforting Keith instead. They can always talk later.

“We’ll be home soon,” Shiro says. “We could do something once we get there. I imagine the Castleship is still on Olkarion so we could get space coffee?”

“Sounds nice,” Keith replies, closing his eyes, softness taking over his features. His tail wraps around Shiro’s leg, and the foreign feeling of it almost makes Shiro step back. At the last second, he stops himself and nuzzles Keith’s hair instead.

They don’t move until Keith’s tea is ready, and Shiro follows Keith to the table. They talk about nothing in particular until Ezor joins them, at which point Keith exchanges a few words with her before walking Shiro back to this room.

Shiro keeps asking Keith if he’s sure he’s alright, and Keith keeps insisting he is, he just misses Zarkon; he’ll be fine by the time they get back to the Castleship.

Shiro isn’t sure if Keith is right, but he doesn’t say anything.

 

* * *

Getting back to the Castleship turns into a hassle, with Lotor refusing to take them to Olkarion and dropping them off at a mall instead, where Matt has to call the Rebellion to come get them.

It gives Matt and Pidge a chance to get lunch with their father, and Hunk goes off to check the local culinary treats. Keith follows Shiro to a small snack bar in a quiet corner.

“I don’t actually have any money, I think Pidge took it all,” Shiro admits, rubbing his neck as they study the menu on the front of the shop.

“I do,” Keith replies. “I got Zarkon to make me my own chip for when we were supposed to go to Draizagal, and he still had it so I took it.”

Shiro quirks an eyebrow, but he follows Keith into the establishment and lets Keith order them pie and drinks.

They don’t have the time to spend hours in the snack bar, but they take their time finishing their pies while Shiro tells Keith about Pidge’s detailed plan to show Sam around the Castleship, and Matt’s equally detailed plan to familiarize Sam with the Rebellion. Keith laughs, imagining the hustle Sam is going to be faced with after such a long time of imprisonment.

After they finish their pie and drinks, they head off to find the others. The Holts are easy to find, but Hunk takes a little more effort. They spend half an hour wandering around the mall before Matt’s colleagues come pick them up. Their ship is just a bit on the worse side of beat up, but it works and their journey to Olkarion goes without incidents, even if the engine is louder than Keith would like and they don’t travel as fast as they would on a Galran shuttle.

While Shiro, Matt, Pidge and Hunk get briefed on the going on’s of the Coalition, Keith stays in the back with Sam.

“So. Are you going back to the Galra at a later date?” Sam asks five minutes into the awkward silence.

“Yeah, I just want to compare notes and share a few things I found out with the others, and get the last of my things,” Keith replies.

Sam nods. “That’s nice of you.”

Keith shrugs. “I’m just trying to go about things the way I see best, and in this case it’s sharing information. Those people attacking both the Coalition and the Galra are a mutual enemy, and we should take that into account. They came after the Lions and the Castleship, and took both out with what were either small ships or shuttles. Imagine what a proper warship could do?”

“I’d rather not,” Sam says, shuddering. Keith can’t blame him for it.

When they finally arrive on Olkarion it’s night, and Shiro orders everyone to go straight to the Castleship.

Unsurprisingly, they get an excited and loud welcome. Everyone but Keith, that is, who gets confused looks thrown his way, and he does make a point of staying back as Allura and Coran introduce themselves to Sam so of course he’s not getting the same attention the others are.

“What are you doing here?” Lance asks when the worst of the commotion dies down, eyeing Keith warily.

Keith crosses his arms, his ears flattening. Zarkon nudges the bond comfortingly, and Keith takes a deep breath. “I left some stuff behind and” — Keith makes sure Zarkon isn’t eavesdropping, glad to find him seemingly busy with something else to pay much attention to Keith — “I took a look at a few reports with information that might be helpful to you — not on the Empire.”

Allura shuts her mouth and pouts for a second before fixing a more neutral expression on her face.

“On the people attacking everyone and draining the quintessence. I also talked to Haggar and Zarkon about it, and they said that those people have been around for centuries, but this is the first time they’re an issue,” Keith continues.

Allura’s eyes widen, then she frowns, taking a step closer to Keith. “Do you think you’re up to telling us about it now, or should we leave it to morning.”

Keith considers it, but as Zarkon’s attention drifts back to him, he decides to postpone telling the others about what he’d learned. “Morning would be better. I’m tired and I don’t want to accidentally leave anything out.”

Allura nods. “We’ll talk when you’re ready, then.”

Keith inclines his head and waves in the direction of the corridor. “I should — I’m gonna go sleep.”

Keith hurries to his room and drops his bag on the floor before throwing himself on the bed and letting his mind turn to Zarkon.

Zarkon wraps around Keith’s mind, warm and comforting, and Keith drifts to sleep with a smile on his face.

When he wakes up hours later, Zarkon isn’t there anymore. Keith tentatively pokes the bond, but the response he gets is sluggish, like Zarkon is trying to sleep. Keith smiles and leaves Zarkon alone, and after changing his clothes he heads to the kitchen to get breakfast.

Allura is already there, but they give each other their own space, though Allura spares Keith’s outfit a long look; it takes Keith a tick to remember he’s wearing clothes Zarkon got him.

As soon as everyone is awake and Keith is sure Zarkon isn’t listening in, they all meet in the lounge. Keith raises an eyebrow at the sight of Kolivan, but Allura explains that with Kiira gone, the Blades have been helping them with their research into the people who have been attacking them.

Everyone except Keith sits down; he settles for pacing the room, trying to decide where to start.

“Okay, bad news first.” Keith stops pacing and turns to Kolivan. “Zarkon threw Thace into a cell for being a member of the Blade, so you’re not getting him back any time soon.”

Kolivan is understandably shocked, but he merely inclines his head and thanks Keith for the information. Keith is grateful he doesn’t question how Zarkon knows Thace is a Blade agent; he doubts he could answer those questions.

“I did ask Zarkon how Thace is, and he assured me he’s relatively unharmed,” Keith adds.

Kolivan inclines his head, the line of his mouth tight.

Keith takes a deep breath. “Okay, better news; I took a look at a report Lotor made and the Empire is evacuating their people from their more vulnerable outer posts — civilians for now, but military possibly at a later date. They’re trying to avoid unnecessary losses from the attacks of the people coming after you — us — as well.”

“Yesterday, you said something of the Galra having encountered these people before,” Allura says when Keith falls silent again.

“Apparently the Empire’s been encountering them for centuries, every now and again, but never at such frequency and they’ve never been such a problem before. It’s... like they’ve been studying the Empire and everyone else.” Keith frowns. “The Galra don’t know how to stop them.”

“If they were a minor nuance before, they might not have been motivated to find a way to stop them,” Kolivan says. “There is no point in putting time and effort into something that is nothing but an minor nuance.”

“But now they’re evacuating people?” Hunk glances around, his uncertainty mirrored on Lance’s face.

“What else?” Shiro asks Keith.

“Um, there’s been an unusual amount of micro-rifts opening recently and — “

“What are those?” Lance asks. “Do they have anything to do with the rift on the Galra homeworld?”

“Yes, they are miniscule tears in the fabric of our reality,” Allura answers, her voice dark.

“The rift that opened on Daibazaal gave us Voltron, but it is also the reason Zarkon went insane and the planet was destroyed,” Coran adds.

“From what I’ve heard that rift was massive,” Keith says, “these ones can rarely be even seen.”

Allura crosses her arms. “They are still dangerous; we should start scanning for them ourselves. We don’t want to accidentally bump into one.”

“And Zarkon? We haven’t heard from him yet.” Coran turns to Keith, his expression hard.

“He’s fine, but Haggar wants him to take it easy so he’s settling on micromanaging Lotor for now,” Keith replies.

_ “ _ He called Shiro a peasant,” Pidge points out.

Keith laughs, unable to stop himself. The memory of it is too much, and Shiro’s heavy sigh does nothing to lessen Keith’s amusement.

“He also almost strangled me to death,” Shiro says, frowning at Keith who does his best to adapt a more serious expression while Lance and Pidge spare him concerned glances. Keith understands why Shiro is not happy with what Zarkon did — Keith wouldn’t have let Zarkon get away with it if it hadn’t been for Zarkon’s anger with Shiro stemming from his need to simply keep Keith safe — but he can’t quite manage the right kind of a reaction to make Shiro stop scowling at him.

After a moment Keith takes a deep, steadying breath and straightens his back. “Like I said, he’s fine. Maybe a bit moodier than before, but fine. I imagine he’s gonna take over the Empire in the next few days again, no matter what Haggar says.”

“That’s unfortunate.” Coran sighs, hanging his head. “Lotor has been less trouble than Zarkon ever was.”

_ “ _ The Empire’s on edge and Zarkon doesn’t like it; he’s gonna do something about it sooner or later,” Keith replies.

“Let’s hope he’ll be busy getting the Empire under control for a long time, then.” Allura stands, a frown marring her face. “We cannot afford start fighting an organized empire with this new threat hanging over us, at least not right away.”

Shiro nods and stands as well. “We need to start preparing. Things are going to get harder than they’ve been before, but if we’re ready and stand our ground, we can get through this.”

Kolivan inclines his head in agreement. “I must return to my people and ensure we are ready for what is to come as well. And if the Empire is about to start hunting down our agents again, we must prepare for that as well.”

Keith watches the others get up and start talking to each other, making plans and coming up with solutions to possible problems. After a while, Keith slinks out of the lounge and heads towards his room, intending to pack the rest of his belongings before returning to Zarkon.

 

* * *

 

A few days after Lotor has dropped the Paladins and Keith off, his father calls him back to the Empire. Lotor can guess why that is, but he tries not to think of what is about to come.

The only confirmation Lotor needs to know that he is about to be pushed aside again is the order to not join his father on the Witch’s ship, but in the Central Command. If Lotor was the type to need more proof to know what is about to happen, all he needs to do is take note of the commanders in the Central Command, all confused as they pack themselves into the throne room.

Many of them turn to Lotor for answers, but he has none to give them. Their confusion at the situation only grows when Lotor doesn’t take the throne, even if he stands on the dais.

The throne room falls dead silent when the doors open and Zarkon walks in, with a druid, two of the druids’ guard and Haggar in tow. Lotor keeps himself relaxed and he refuses to let his confusion at his father’s outfit show on his face; he has forgone his usual armor in favor of a new one — more like Lotor’s own, though where Lotor favors more bluish hues, his father has gone with dark, rich wine reds, purples and black, his cape long enough to drag on the floor after him.

He still has his crown, at least, but that is not what Lotor pays attention to; he is much more interested in the softly glimmering seams — too much like quintessence — of his father’s outfit.

Has Haggar done something to his father?

Before Lotor can get too deep into his thoughts, his father steps past him and takes the throne. As is expected of him, Lotor takes one step down on the dais and bows while Haggar takes her place by his father’s side. The druid and the guards stand back, but remain between the throne and the commanders.

“I am pleased you are well, sire,” Lotor says, as is expected of him.

The last thing the Empire needs at that moment is a rocky transition of power, and Lotor is going to do his part to make things go smoothly. If there are issues, it will be his father’s doing.

Zarkon spares Lotor a brief nod before turning his attention to his commanders. “Why have you failed to keep my Empire from falling into such a chaotic state?”

The commanders look at each other, then one of them steps forward, bowing deeply. “We are aware that the state of the Empire is not ideal, and while we have done our best to keep things running smoothly, it would have been easier with, well” — he spares Lotor a brief glance — “more competent leadership.”

Lotor grits his teeth, but his father does not react. It only encourages the commander to continue; “this is the first time we have all been in one place in months. We have barely been given orders beyond being told to do what we have always been doing.”

“So you would blame Lotor for the Empire’s state?” Zarkon asks.

The commander glances at Lotor again. “I would say he has not helped the matter.”

Arguing would not help, but it’s still what Lotor wants to do; the only reason he doesn’t is that it would only make things worse. He can talk about it with his father when they are alone.

“The Empire needs strong leadership,” another commander pipes in. She steps forward and Lotor narrows his eyes when she doesn’t bow at her Emperor like she should do. “With your return, we hope we will have that again.”

Lotor’s ears twitch down against his will.

Even his father narrows his eyes. “You hope?”

The commanders share not so subtle looks, and suddenly Lotor understands why his father brought the druid and their guards with him.

“We assume we will return to hunting down Voltron now,” the commander continues, tilting her head in a barely respectful way. “As they are our biggest threat at the moment; they are taking our territory. This... nuance attacking lone ships is hardly worth the attention he has focused on.” She nods at Lotor, who refuses to give her any reaction.

“Your opinion is not wanted nor needed,” Zarkon says. “I will decide what we will focus on, and you will do as I say.”

The commanders look less than convinced, but at least they remain silent.

Not that it keeps the chill from running down Lotor’s spine or the druids’ guard from gripping their weapons a little tighter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The bit where Keith calls Zarkon a bitch is a leftover joke from before this chapter was even properly written. I was originally gonna change it but... nah.
> 
> Also those of you who follow me on twitter have seen the piece I did of Zarkon's outfit around Christmas. The biggest difference with that and what I imagine here is that in the past week or so I decided the cape is just pure black and I'm too lazy to go back and edit the image so it's what it is. 
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	27. Chapter 27

Shiro bites his lip, frowning at the list of all the ships the Coalition has lost contact with while Shiro and the others were with the Galra. There are too many names on the list, and Shiro has no idea what to do about it. How are they supposed to fight something that can incapacitate even Voltron in one strike that they have no means to counter?

If Shiro were to ask Keith for advice, he’d probably tell Shiro to work with the Empire, but Shiro’s not desperate enough for that — and neither is anyone else. They can figure it out on their own.

Shiro sighs and stands, dropping the too long list on the table. He heads out of his room, not really sure where he’s going but needing to be somewhere where he can clear his mind.

He wishes Matt was still there, but he’d wanted to take Sam to a Rebellion base and further away from the front lines of the war. Pidge had agreed with him, and Sam had been happy enough to go, so no one had objected.

Perhaps Shiro could call Matt and bounce ideas off of him.

“Shiro,” Hunk calls after him, and Shiro stops and turns around. “Pidge and I have been going through the files Allura and the others got on this new enemy of ours and we might have a few ideas.”

Shiro can’t help the excitement sparking in him. “Really?”

Hunk nods. “We spent the entire night cross referencing information and files and the info we got from Keith and all, and we made a few observations.”

“Go on,” Shiro encourages.

“Well, quintessence is in everything, and we can’t get rid of it, but we were thinking... what if we did some shield modulating? With rapidly shifting frequencies we might be able to keep the enemy from draining us the moment we start a fight and get a few shots in.”

Shiro’s lips quirk into a smile. “Sounds a bit Star Trek-y.”

Hunk rubs his neck. “That’s because it is. But if it’ll work, does it matter where the idea came from?”

“No. Tell Allura and Coran about it and take advantage of the Olkarian tech you have access to. Better use all resources, right?”

“Pidge is already on it,” Hunk replies.

Shiro nods. “Let me know how it goes?”

“You got it.” Hunk waves Shiro goodbye and hurries down the hallway, no doubt excited to start his new project.

Shiro feels a little better and on a whim he heads to say hi to the Black Lion. To Shiro’s surprise Keith is already there, and he approaches Keith slowly. “Do you want to go on a ride?”

Keith jumps like he hadn’t heard Shiro approach — odd, considering his hearing — and swirls around. “ _ No. _ ” He clears his throat, shaking his head minutely. “No, it’s fine. I just... I wanted to see it — her. Whatever.”

Shiro does his best to hide his confusion; he knows and understands that the Lions don’t have a fixed gender — if they even have a gender to begin with — it’s more of a matter of what anyone feels they are. And Keith was the first of them to easily slip into that mindset of calling the Lions she or he or they so his confusion makes no sense now.

“You okay?”

Keith nods. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just thinking.”

“Of?”

“When I want to go back to the Empire.” Keith sighs and shoves his hands in his pockets. “I told Zarkon I’d decide, that it’d be  _ my _ choice to go back, no blackmailing or hostages or anything, and I want to go back, I do, but... I’ll have to leave you here.”

Shiro gets it, he does, but he doesn’t know how to ease Keith’s mind. Keith can’t have both him and Zarkon at the same time. Not right now, anyways; not with them being on opposite sides of a war and with light years between their ships.

“We could always do weekly dates and sleepovers,” Shiro says eventually.

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “And here I thought you’d tell me not to go.”

Shiro shrugs and crosses his arms. “I’d prefer you do that, but...”

“But what?”

“I just” — Shiro sighs, casting his eyes to the floor — “I get why you want to go back.”

“Really?” Keith shifts, then takes a small step towards Shiro. “You get why I want to go back to Zarkon? After he — what is it you always say? Brainwashed and tortured me, and how horrible he is to me in general?”

Shiro flinches at the sharpness of Keith’s voice. “I still think he messed with your head, but... look, I’m not blind, I saw how he treats you, and I’m not gonna be  _ that  _ person and pretend I’m right when I’m not; I admit he didn’t treat you exactly how I expected. I think it’s still... whatever, but it wasn’t what I expected, and he wasn’t treating you horribly or anything. And your friends were nice to you.”

Keith blinks. “Thanks.”

Shiro nods, not knowing what else to say. He waves at the Lion after a moment, remembering why he’s there in the first place. “I was gonna say hi to — “

“I was just leaving,” Keith cuts in. “So take your time.”

Keith hurries out of the hangar, leaving Shiro staring after him in confusion.

 

* * *

Keith strides down the corridor, ignoring the sense of  _ go back go back get into the Lion go back fly away _ beating against his thoughts.

“Cut it out,” he mutters, even if it doesn’t help.

_I’m not taking you into the Lion_ , he thinks as loudly as he can, pushing the thought and his refusal go back towards Zarkon. It doesn’t stop Zarkon from wanting to get back to the Black Lion, but the insistence lessens to grumbling in the back of Keith’s mind.

There are pros and cons to having the bond working again, and ever since Keith left the Empire, Zarkon has used it mostly to gripe at Keith for being gone, which Keith counts as a definitive con. Keith suspects Zarkon is trying to wear him down so that he’ll return sooner, but it only makes Keith want to stay just a day longer — to show Zarkon he’s not allowed to boss Keith around when he  _ promised _ he’d let Keith make the decision to return on his own.

Keith heads to his room and falls face first on his bed, groaning and mentally elbowing Zarkon. To his surprise Zarkon finally takes the hint and lets Keith be.

Not that it helps much, as Keith’s pad pings with an incoming call moments later. Reluctantly, Keith pushes himself up and picks his pad up, accepting the call. He’s surprised to see Rejya’s face, and he almost expects her to ask him about the Empire and Thace.

“You encountered two Galra of an order we have not been aware of before while you were with the Empire, correct?” She asks.

Keith frowns. “You’re gonna have to clarify that.”

Rejya grits her teeth and huffs. “Thace said that the Galra who attacked you when you got turned to one of us —“

“Vazka.”

“— was supposedly a member of an organization of some sort. I’d like to hear more of your experience with him.”

Keith blinks, and Zarkon has to nudge him to get his mind going again. “I don’t know what to tell you; Jadzi talked about some conspiracy theories — something about rifts and people not being who they are, and Vazka said something about a king beyond the rift and that’s pretty much it. They were conspiracy theorists, that’s all.”

Rejya frowns and her ears twitch down. “We lost contact with a Blade recently, and the last thing she said was that she had run into a group of sorts — people who have an unusual focus on rifts and quintessence.”

Keith’s ears perk up, and even Zarkon’s silence has taken an expectant edge to it; even if he can’t understand what Rejya and Keith are saying, he can feel what Keith feels, sometimes even discern an idea of the topic.

“Wait, if they’re focused on quintessence, could they have something to do with these attacks that have been happening?”

“That is what we are trying to figure out. We could use your help, and Voltron’s,” Rejya replies. “Your Lions would be better protection than our ships in case these people use quintessence powered weapons.”

“I’ll talk to the others,” Keith promises. “And I’ll let you know if I remember anything else about Jadri and Vazka. Sorry I couldn’t be more help.”

“I just wanted to know if you were aware of their existence, so you have been helpful,” Rejya says.

Keith relaxes and smiles at her, then furrows his brow at the hesitant look on her face. “What?”

“We have been wondering — Leader has not told us much of... well. I wonder if you could tell me of Thace?”

Keith grimaces, then shoves Zarkon out of his head when he gears up for an argument. “He’s in a cell in the Empire. Zarkon did say he’s fine, save for having been interrogated, but since Zarkon knows Thace is a friend of mine he went gentle on him.”

Rejya’s pose loses some of its tension, and she bows her head. “Thank you.”

“I’ll go talk to the others now,” Keith says and waits until Rejya inclines her head before saying goodbye and disconnecting the call.

Zarkon is there, in his mind in an instant. Keith does his best to share the sense of Vazka and Jadri with him, hoping it will be enough to give Zarkon an idea of what’s going on. It takes a minute, but eventually Zarkon understands what Keith it trying to tell him, and he withdraws from Keith’s mind, no doubt about to launch a new investigation into the group Vazka and Jadri had been a part of.

Keith takes the opportunity to go find Allura and tell her of Rejya’s call.

 

* * *

Of course the Paladins agree to help the Blade of Marmora, especially after they hear there might be a connection between this group of people their agent had been looking into and whoever has been attacking Voltron, the Rebellion and even the Empire.

Keith tries to tell the others that the Galra can’t shoot magic out of their hands, but it does little to deter his friends’ determination to find a connection where there might not be one — at least not the kind they are hoping to find.

Rejya and Antok join them, both of them out of their Blade armor and in what Rejya calls standard civilian space travel uniform — light armor and thick coats, and helmets should they need them. They let Keith wear the armor they had given him months ago, but they instruct him to grab a coat and put it on.

On the day they decide to head to the planet Rejya says the Blade agent they had lost contact with was last seen on, Keith pointedly walks past the Black Lion and joins Hunk in the Yellow Lion. Zarkon grumbles and Shiro looks confused, but Keith’s not in the mood for telling anyone about the bond, so he ignores them both.

Hunk doesn’t mind Keith being there, but he does comment on Yellow being a little hesitant to get moving. Keith pushes Zarkon further back into his mind and thanks Hunk for having him there again.

Keith does his best to stay quiet while they approach the planet, and once they land he exits the Lion before Hunk does.

The planet they’re on has beautiful oceans and hundreds of lakes, and the vegetation reflects it, though further towards the inland the Paladins would run into mountains, but at the moment they’re on a grassy field by a forest, getting familiar with their surroundings. Keith listens to the sounds of the birds singing in the forest, ignoring the way Zarkon shifts against the back of his mind.

Keith breathes in the fresh scent in the air while the others meander to him, pulling their helmets off to fully appreciate the soft breeze blowing across the field.

“It’s nice,” Lance observes.

“It is damp,” Rejya counters. “I would suggest you remain here, the town nearby is Galra occupied, and we need to be discreet.”

“We just landed giant mechanic Lions on the planet. If you wanted discreet, maybe you should’ve said something sooner,” Hunk says.

Rejya frowns and looks away. “Just stay out of sight for now.”

“What about Keith?” Allura asks.

Rejya spares her a glance, her eyes slowly drifting to Keith. “He is Galra, and he has a connection to the Empire.”

“So you’re going to use him to get closer to the people here?” Pidge asks, frowning.

“I’m okay with it,” Keith says. “And besides, we’ll be safer around the people than you’d be; we actually look like them.”

Keith’s heart hammers in his chest as they do the last checks to make sure they are armed in case of trouble and that they have everything they need. Antok pulls a hood over his helmet, and Keith almost asks him why he keeps it on at all times.

“Ready?” Keith asks once he’s sure he has everything he needs. Rejya inclines her head and turns to Antok, and Lance yelps in pain.

Everyone’s attention snaps to Lance as he curses under his breath, rubbing his cheek that’s somehow gained a red mark.

“What the —“ Shiro starts, his eyes darting around. “Watch out, everyone.”

Keith crouches on the ground, just to be safe. He scans the area, but he can’t see anything.

“Ow!” Pidge swirls around and rubs the back of her head. “What’s going on?”

Rejya smiles. “Children.”

“What?” Shiro stares at her, as confused as everyone else.

Rejya nods towards the treeline. “Children,” she repeats, then scoops up mud from the ground and rushes the treeline, flinging the mud at a particularly thick bush. A chorus of shrieks rings in the air, and five Galra children dart from the bushes and to the clearing.

Keith and the others are too confused to react when the tallest of the children — about Pidge’s size — hurls another rock rock at Lance.

The rock hits Lance on his forehead, causing Lance to cry out and duck to the ground.

“Hey!” Shiro takes a purposeful step forward, and the children scramble back.

Keith touches Shiro’s elbow, frowning slightly. “I think they’re scared of you.”

“Scared of us? They’re throwing rocks at us!” Hunk looks ready to pull a shield up to protect himself as he puts his helmet back on. Keith shakes his head, half to disagree with Hunk’s attitude, half because Zarkon filling Keith’s head with concern.

Antok grouches on the ground, seemingly unconcerned by the children’s attack while Rejya engages in a mud flinging fight with one of the older children. The child ends up winning, though Keith suspects it’s because Rejya loses on purpose.

The other children continue throwing stones and sticks and everything they can get their hands on at the Paladins, hissing and growling at them as they dart close ad run away again. The children avoid hitting Keith, and as the Paladins back off, one of the smaller kids  hurries to Keith and tugs him hand.

Curious and amused, Keith follows the girl, smiling at the way her short hair has been pulled into three pigtails with bright ribbons.

“Where are we going?” Keith asks, ignoring Shiro’s voice calling his name. He doubts a group of children will pose him any immediate danger — Galran as they may be.

“We’re rescuing you,” the girl informs him proudly, turning to Keith to offer him a wide grin.

Keith stares at her, confused and unsure of what he should say. “Um, why?”

The girl scowls at him, her ears drooping almost comically. “Because the bad people took you?”

Keith stops, tugging the girl to a halt as he does so. “What?”

The child opens her mouth, then her eyes widen and she shrieks, and a second later Shiro scoops her up from the ground. “Where are you taking him?”

Instead of answering, the girl screams — a shrill sound penetrating the air and making Keith flatten his ears and growl on instinct.

Shiro starts and holds the girl a little further from himself, his eyes darting around, begging for someone to do something. The other children abandon everything to rush to the aid of their friend, and soon Shiro is holding one screaming child while four others kick him in the chins and knees, and claw and growl at him. One even bites Shiro’s arm when she reaches it.

After a moment, Keith takes pity on Shiro and takes the screaming girl from him and the other children settle down as soon as they deem her safe.

But the girl is crying as she wraps her arms around Keith’s neck and clings to him. The other children flock around Keith as well, their ears flat, glaring at Shiro. The Paladins join Shiro one by one while Antok and Rejya come to hover behind Keith.

Allura steps forward, smiling gently if tensely, and leans down to address the oldest child. “Aren’t you supposed to be with your mothers?”

The boy bares his teeth and growls, and Allura straightens up to give him space. “You killed my mom.”

Allura’s smile falls and none of the other Paladins look much better; even Keith is shocked. The children shuffle closer to Keith like he’s going to protect them. Keith shushes the girl still crying in his arms, unsure of what else he can do.

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Lance says after a moment.

The oldest child snarls and puts his fists on his hips. “You’ve got the robot ships that killed mother. You’re bad people.”

“No we’re not.” Pidge scowls, looking around at the others. “We’re not bad people, we  _ help  _ people.”

“Yeah,” Lance agrees, nodding empathetically. “Whatever you’ve heard, it’s not true.”

“How about we all take a deep breath and calm down?” Keith cuts in before his friends can start a fight with a bunch of children. Shiro spares him a grateful look and the children fall silent immediately, their attention zeroing in on Keith.

Keith blinks, then clears his throat. He doesn’t know why the children are so focused on him, but he’s not going to question it when it’s still beneficial to him. “I need you to not pick a fight right now, okay?” Keith addresses the oldest child as he seems to be the leader.

“But they’re bad people!”

Keith sighs. “From your perspective, but there are a lot of people who’d disagree with you because these people have helped them; it’s not entirely black and white.”

The boy frowns, trying to puzzle Keith’s words out. Before he can come to a conclusion, a loud yell penetrates the air. Keith swirls around just in time to see a woman with pale, silky fur and white braided hair rush towards them.

Rejya turns to the Paladins, her expression tense. “Back off.”

“What?” Shiro frowns.

“Back off, now,” Rejya says, and the Paladins take a step back.

The woman ignores Keith, Rejya and Antok, her attention zeroed in on the Paladins. “Get away from them!”

The children press themselves against Keith as two other Galra appear at the edges of the field, their eyes darting around frantically until landing on the children.

_ Parents. _

Keith isn’t sure if it’s a thought that Zarkon put into his head or if it’s his own, but he doesn’t care; the woman has reached them, and Keith can see the same light markings on her face as one of the older girls’ at his side.

Keith’s ears draw back at the sound of a bayard beginning to take shape, and he pushes the girl in his arms to the oldest boy before stepping in front of the woman and between her and Lance’s rifle.

The woman lets out an alarmed shriek and presses herself against Keith’s back. The children begin to cry, and the adults behind them frantically call for the children to get back.

And Lance looks scared.

Keith lifts his hand, careful to keep his pose relaxed despite Zarkon raging in his head. “Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“Put the weapon down.”

Lance blinks.

Keith bites his lip, then talks a little more forcefully. “Lance, put the weapon down before you shoot a civilian.”

“But she — “

“They’re her kids,” Keith says, and it seems to snap Lance out of whatever panicked state he’s in, and slowly, he lowers his weapon.

Shiro joins them and touches Lance’s shoulder, then offers Keith a small, thankful smile before giving Lance his full attention.

Keith takes the opportunity to turn to the woman — still terrified and refusing to let go of Keith’s arm. “Are you okay?”

Hesitantly, the woman inclines her head.

“What’s your name?”

“Ara,” she replies, then swallows. “My name is Ara,” she repeats, her voice stronger this time.

“I’m Keith.” Keith points at Rejya and Antok. “That’s Rejya and Antok, we’re — “ Keith looks down at the tugging at the hem of his coat, only to find the girl he’d held earlier staring up at him with determined eyes.

She lets go of Keith’s coat and lifts her hands towards him. “Up.”

Keith stares at her for a second, then does as he’s told, too dumbfounded not to. The other adults are with the rest of the children, checking them over and giving them a stern talking to for wandering off.

Allura clears her throat softly behind Keith, a polite smile on her face. To Keith’s surprise, she bows her head slightly at Ara as she joins them. “I’m Allura — “

“We know who you are, “Ara snaps. “And you are not welcome here.”

Shiro joins them, along with Rejya. Ara bares her teeth at Shiro, so Shiro lets Rejya take the lead. “We do not mean you harm, we are merely looking for a friend of ours.”

“You brought  _ them _ here.” Ara spares the Paladins an angry look.

“Please.” Keith waves Rejya to give her pad to him, and when she does he pulls out the picture of the lost Blade member. “We just want to know if you’ve seen this person, that’s all. We don’t want any trouble.”

Ara lets out a heavy sigh, but she looks at the picture. “I might have seen her, but... you should ask Jarok.” Ara waves at one of the men with the children.

“Thanks.” Keith moves to the man Ara had indicated — almost as tall as Antok, with a kind smile for the children and a missing ear.

“Hi, I’m Keith.”

Jarok stands and bows his head. Keith shows him the picture before he can tell Keith they’re not welcome there. “We’re looking for her, that’s all. We don’t mean any trouble.”

Jarok takes the pad and studies the image, the children huddling around his legs. “Zecki? I’m afraid we haven’t seen her since...”

“Since what?”

Jarok sighs and hands the pad back to Keith, then he shares a brief, quiet conversation with the other adults who soon take the children further away, even taking the child from Keith’s arms. The children wave Keith goodbye, and Keith waves back at them.

Jarok crosses his arms. “Five weeks ago, we were approached by a group of Galra requesting we allow them to stay while they fix their ship. Of course we allowed it, and they kept mostly to themselves. Odd people, but they were harmless. Zecki took an interest in them, though, and they welcomed her to join them for a quarter or two a day. She was with them when” — Jarok glances at the forest — “a commander arrived with his crew. They took our fields and... well, they said that the military required them, but when we tried to look into it they got — they were not happy.”

Keith can guess who the commander is, but he keeps his thoughts to himself, encouraging Jarok to continue instead.

“Most of us abandoned our town — there aren’t many of us on here so it was still mostly empty anyways, we’re just setting up the third and fourth settlements, and the already established ones are on the other side of the planet. We have good crops and livestock, but we’re stuck hiding in our sister village that’s still under construction. No one is supposed to live there yet. We haven’t dared to send out messages to the Empire or the towns on the other side of the planet asking about this, because we fear the commander will intercept our messages and... well, we have been building the village.”

Keith frowns. “Most of you? Not all?”

“Some of us stayed behind to assist the commander and his people harvest the fields — to give the rest of us a chance to get away safely and remain undisturbed,” Jarok explains.

Keith inclines his head, considering their options. “Look, I get that you guys don’t want the Paladins of Voltron on your turf — I’m not a big fan of having them near a civilian settlement either — but I think I know who this commander is, and he’s just as much their enemy as he’s yours — and the Empire’s, I might add. Do you think you could let them pass through your village? They’re here to locate a friend, that’s all, but if this commander starts causing you trouble, they could also help you with that.”

“I don’t know.” Jarok spares the Paladins an uncertain glance. “I can’t authorize it, but you could take it up with the council.”

Keith tilts his head. “The council?” When Jarok looks at him like he’s an idiot, Keith gives him his best sheepish look. “I didn’t grow up around the Galra so I’m still learning how everything works.”

Jarok’s eyes flicker over Keith. “But you... never mind. The council is a group of elected people — and Empire officials if they are present — that make decisions on things that affect us all until we have an official ruling party set up.”

“Okay, I’d like to meet this council,” Keith says.

Jarok nods towards the Paladins. “They should stay here.”

Keith inclines his head and asks Jarok to wait while he explains the situation to the Paladins. They’re wary of the idea, but they also agree it’s their best choice to keep a fight from breaking out.

After everything is settled, Keith follows Jarok into the woods.

They walk through the thick woods for a solid hour before reaching the edge of a field of tall, wheat like grain, except the wheat is red with golden flecks. It’s beautiful, and Keith falls a few steps behind Jarok as he stares at the field.

Minutes later they reach the edge of the crop fields and Keith sees the village the Galra are building, but this time Jorak grabs his elbow and drags him through the village while Keith’s eyes dart around, his ears perked as high as they go.

The village is unfinished and the streets unpaved, though they’ve been lined with rocks. The alleyways are narrow, and the densely packed buildings on either sides of the street aren’t tall. Zarkon nudges Keith affectionately through the bond as Keith does his best to share his excitement at what he’s seeing with him.

Jorak pulls Keith to an octagonal clearing, each corner leading to another street. There’s a group of six Galra waiting for them there and Ara’s presence by their side explains it. Jorak bows, and Keith follows his example.

“This is Keith,” Jorak introduces Keith to the council — at least Keith thinks it’s the council — “ he wishes to have an audience with you.”

One of the older Galra study Keith closely, his eyes widening slightly before he bows at Keith. “Of course.”

They lead Keith to an official looking building at the edges of the clearing and to a room with a table. They give Keith the seat at the head of the table, asking him to present his case. After taking a deep breath, Keith does just that. He tells the council of Rejya’s missing friend, and how Voltron had agreed to help Rejya find her. He tells them of Voltron being aware of a rogue commander — that even Zarkon wouldn’t mind them taking on Zykov — and he requests the council allow the Paladins to pass through their village.

Keith leaves the room while the council members talk. He paces the hallway for ten minutes before he’s called back in, and the council members tell him they’ll allow the Paladins to pass through, but that they can’t bring their Lions. Keith finds it an acceptable solution, and he accompanies Jorak and five others to pick the Paladins, Rejya and Antok up.

The Paladins are antsy to get moving and understandably curious about the Galra settlement, but both Shiro and Keith tell them to reign it in; they’re not there to tour the village of people who don’t even want them there, but to check on a friend.

The Galra show the Paladins through the small village — Keith notes that the streets are suspiciously empty — and Jorak and his Galra friends offer to take the Paladins all the way to the original village that the commander had taken over.

It’s an offer the Paladins are more than happy to accept.

Even though Keith doesn’t anticipate trouble, he still tugs at the bond, asking Zarkon to come closer to him — just in case.

 

* * *

 

The small town the Galra commander has taken over is filled with sentries and officers moving around, all with purpose — especially the guards. The Galra civilians are uneasy this close to their occupied home, but they still tell Keith about the town and where to go and where the last known location of the people who had arrived before the commander showed up is.

The Galra like Keith, and when Pidge had questioned it after Keith had followed them into the forest, leaving the others behind, Rejya had said it’s because Keith wears the insignia of the Imperial Family, nothing more — the Galra are conditioned to respect the symbol since birth so of course they flock to Keith.

The Paladins, Keith, Rejya and Antok all agree that the civilians shouldn’t get any closer to the town, and they get no arguments from the Galra.

“We will be nearby to guide you back so that you don’t disrupt the village by appearing without a warning,” Jarok still promises, and Shiro thanks him for it.

“When we know what we’re dealing with, we can try to get rid of the commander for you,” Shiro offers.

Jarok shakes his head. “They will leave eventually. All you would accomplish is destruction of everything we have established here.”

Shiro nods, then leads his people behind the vast fields, some of them harvested, some not. They do their best to keep from being spotted and they get past the fields and to the edges of the town, but they can’t see a way through the sentries from there.

“I say we take them out,” Lance says.

“And let the Galra know we’re here?” Pidge asks, making Lance slump against the wall he’s leaning on.

“We should split up and sneak past the guards in smaller groups,” Keith says.

Shiro isn’t sure about it; splitting up isn’t something he’s keen on doing, but it would also have its benefits.

“I know a way through.”

Everyone swirls around to see one of the older boys of the group that had attacked them before. His grayish purple, velvet like fur is still covered in grass stains, as are his deep red clothes.

Keith shifts. “Really?”

The boy inclines his head. “ _ Vala _ works on the field and I like to go see him. There’s a way through the sentries.”

“What’s your name?” Allura asks.

The boy looks for Keith for confirmation, and Keith inclines his head.

“Everyone calls me Gai.”

Allura smiles. “Do you think you could show us the way?”

“Is it safe?” Keith cuts in. “I don’t want you getting involved in this if it’s not safe.”

Gai stands straighter. “Of course it’s safe, I’ve been using the path since we left the town.”

“We’ll protect him,” Shiro says, turning to Keith. “I don’t like this any more than you do, but our best bet of getting out of this in one piece is by getting through the town without being detected. We can keep him safe.”

“We can go around the town,” Keith points out.

“You’d walk straight into our security systems,” Gai says and waves his hand in a wide arch around them. “They go all around the town for kestres.”

Allura’s quiet groan is all Shiro needs to know that it’s not worth the trouble to go around the town.

“Then we go through. It’s not a big town so it shouldn’t take that long,” Shiro says.

“It’s the secondary town. The village we’re in now is going to be the primary once everything is finished,” Gai informs them.

“Sounds cool,” Hunk says.

Gai stands straighter, a proud look on his face. “It’s really cool.”

Hunk and Lance laugh quietly, and Shiro gives them a moment before clearing his throat. “We need to get going. I want you to stay between me and Keith, okay? And if anything happens you’re going to run straight home,” he tells Gai, who inclines his head briefly, then takes Keith’s hand.

Shiro goes first, following Gai’s instructions, and everyone else follows. They pass the opening of the town without being spotted, and they make it through the narrow alleyways and to a wider street with vehicles and a few carts with large metal containers on them, no doubt carrying either military supplies or grain. They slip into the alleyway across the street, but soon after that Gai stops, a frown on his face.

“What is it?” Keith asks quietly.

“They’ve added security. I don’t know how to get through it yet.”

Shiro grits his teeth and turns his attention to the sentries and the cameras around them. He studies them, trying to spot a weakness.

“I think this is where you go back home,” Keith tells Gai. Shiro doesn’t turn to see what’s going on, but he keeps an ear on the quiet argument that ends in shuffling, and then soft retreating steps.

And after a few long seconds, a scream.

Keith is running before Shiro can stop him, but they all follow Keith soon anyways, just in time to see Keith pull out his bayard and cut a sentry pulling Gai out from under the cart he’s trying to hide under.

Shiro curses under his breath, but he can’t blame Keith for saving Gai and blowing their cover at the same time. He would’ve done the same if Keith hadn’t beat him to it.

Shiro and the others don’t reach Keith before all hell breaks loose. Keith grabs Gai and ducks into the nearest alleyway, and Shiro and the others open fire on the sentries, then on the officers hurrying towards them. The Galra have the advantage because of their manpower alone, but they Shiro will buy Keith as much time to get Gai away from there as he possibly can.

Shiro wishes they hadn’t left the Lions so far away.

“We can’t hold them off for long!” Allura ducks behind a cart for cover, but it gets blown up and the only thing that saves her is Rejya pulling her out of the way.

“We need the Lions,” Pidge says.

“They’re hours away from us,” Hunk reminds her as Lance takes aim and shoots the two sentries closest to them to keep them from reaching their hiding spot.

The sentries and officers slowly stop firing on them, and Shiro glances at the others, wary and confused as to why the assault has stopped.

“Is that mongrel with you?”

Shiro curses at Zykov’s voice. He hopes Keith is too far away to hear it too. “No, sorry,” Shiro replies.

Silence follows, but it’s loaded, and the Paladins exchange uneasy looks. Antok remains as unreadable as ever, and Rejya appears unaffected, if on alert.

“Then we just have to bring it here, don’t we?”

Shiro barely has a chance to process Zykov’s words before the alleyway corner he’s hiding behind explodes.

Shiro’s ears ring, and his body hurts form the force and weight of the rocks falling on top of him. The sounds around him are muffled, and he’s only distantly aware of Pidge being lifted from the ground by sentries. She fights them, but she can’t get free. Somewhere, Zykov is speaking, but Shiro can’t make out his words.

After a moment Shiro tries to push himself up, but there’s a weight on top of him that keeps him on the ground. He closes his eyes and presses his forehead to the ground, focusing on breathing and getting his mind to clear up.

The weight on top of Shiro lessens, and when he looks up he’s shocked to meet Keith’s eyes. Keith remains crouched close to the ground as he pulls Shiro up, half hiding behind him, half holding him up. “What’s going on?”

“He wants you,” Shiro mutters in reply. “I think he took Pidge.”

Keith growls softly. Allura crawls to them and sits next to Shiro, shielding Keith just a bit better from the Galra. “Hunk and Lance are okay, but they’re on the other side of the rubble with Rejya and Antok. The cart is between us as well so we can’t reach each other just yet.”

Allura glances at Keith, or at least Shiro thinks she does. “You need to go. Get to the Lions. You can pilot the Red Lion here — or Black, if you have to.”

“No, I’ll get Pidge.” Keith hands Shiro a pocket pad. “I called Zarkon so he should be here soon.”

Before Allura or Shiro can do or say anything, Keith is walking towards Zykov.

“Hey asshole!”

Zykov turns to Keith, and though Shiro’s vision is blurred, he can still see how wide Zykov’s eyes are.

“Let her go and we can have a go at it if you want; one on one, if you think you can take me,” Keith says.

Though Shiro sees the bayard in Keith’s hand, hidden behind his back, he wants to stop Keith. Zykov is a commander, not an officer; they’re far more efficient in combat than the average Galra. Keith doesn’t know what he’s getting into — Zykov won’t hold back like Thace had done.

Zykov studies Keith, then orders the sentries to let go of Pidge. He turns to Keith, his whole being radiating that dangerous kind of calm Shiro knows to be wary of, but that only makes Keith more determined to defeat his enemy.

A second passes, then another, and nothing happens.

Zykov moves first, but Keith is ready for it and he swings the blade whip at Zykov, forcing him to dodge.

Keith chases after Zykov, forcing him back with the whip. Zykov is quick to see what Keith’s doing, and rather than trying to get past the whip, he turns and retreats into the narrow alleyways of the town.

“Keith!” Shiro tires to stand, but he does so with such a rush his vision blurs and he trips on a piece of rubble, and he falls back to the ground, hissing in pain. He watches Keith chance after Zykov, but he has to trust Keith to take care of himself when the sentries attack him and the others again.

Antok charges the Galra, with Lance and Hunk offering him cover fire, while Rejya comes to cover Shiro and Allura. Pidge joins them, helping Rejya the best she can while Allura drags Shiro from the fight.

“You need to stay here,” she tells Shiro, pressing him against the wall in the alleyway she’d taken Shiro into. “You’re in no condition to help right now. Rest for a bit, alright?”

Shiro tries to tell her no, but Allura is already gone, and though he wants to argue Shiro knows he needs a moment to get his head cleared out; he won’t be any good in the fight if he can’t even stand without stumbling.

So Shiro focuses on simply breathing, doing the best he can to ignore the sounds of fighting behind him.

He just needs a few more seconds to clear his head enough to join the others.

He prays Keith is still safe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I doubt I'll be editing another chapter this week since I'm over chapter and a half behind in my writing and I need get that done asap.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh look it's the original ending of the last chapter! Yes, it's almost 10k long and yes, that's why it's its own chapter.

Keith slides to a halt, his ears turning this way and that as he tries to hear anything that might tell him where Zykov went.

The alleyway he’s in is too narrow, too dangerous for him to stay in, but he doesn’t know which way to go.

A whistle rings in the air and Keith follows it, hitting the ground and rolling as he rounds a corner. A shot flies over Keith, right where his head would have been if he had been standing. Keith grits his teeth and swings the bayard. The whip tears the walls apart, but Zykov escapes around a corner again.

Keith curses and follows. He’s careful at every corner, knowing full well that Zykov could be waiting for him, ready to shoot his head off.

But Zykov isn’t around the corner, and Keith moves deeper into the maze of alleyways.

“Keith,” Allura’s voice crackles over the comms.

“What?” Keith whispers, not wanting to give his position away.

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know. In the alleyways,” Keith replies. He arrives at an opening to the main streets, and he peeks around the corner, checking both ways before bolting across the street and into the alleyway there.

“You have to go get one of the Lions, we need back up here,” Allura says.

Keith slows down and presses himself against the wall. “What?”

“We found a Galran speeder, but Shiro is in no condition to drive it, and you’re the only other person who can pilot one of the Lions and operate the speeder,” Allura explains.

Keith frowns. “It’s been over a year since I piloted Red, she won’t — “

“Then take the Black Lion, he’s listened to you in a similar situation before. We _need_ more fire power,” Allura says.

Keith bites his lip. He can’t take Black, he can’t let Zarkon anywhere near the Lion, not even telepathically. But how is he supposed to explain that?

“I’m chasing Zykov,” Keith reminds Allura, knowing it won’t stop her from demanding his help.

“Quiznak,” Allura mutters darkly, then says more loudly, “we need you.”

Keith swallows. “Okay. Maybe I could drive Hunk or Pidge there and — “

“No, you are going to pilot one of the Lions, and that’s final. If we needed someone to take one of us to the Lions, we would’ve had Rejya or Antok do it. We’re pinned down as it is, we can’t afford to lose any one of us.”

Keith curses under his breath, but heads back to the others. He just has to pray Red will let him in — even with Zarkon in his head.Keith tugs at the bond, but Zarkon is busy with something else. Keith hopes it’s getting to where they are.

It takes Keith ten minutes to reach Allura and the others, and he slices half a dozen sentries to pieces as he hurries to them.

“The speeder?” He asks as he ducks behind the corner Allura and Rejya are hiding behind. “And where’s Shiro?”

“He’s with Hunk and Lance,” Allura replies.

Keith bites his lip, and after a moment of hesitation hands his bayard to Allura. “Can you get this to Shiro? And ask him to contact me as soon as he can?”

“Of course,” Allura replies, clearly glad to have more firepower on their side.

“I’ll show you to the speeder,” Rejya says, firing at the sentries with her handgun before turning to Keith. “Now.”

Keith goes with her without further prompting, and they run down the narrow alleyway behind their hiding spot, finding the speeder there.

“Shiro said you should be able to ride this with ease,” Rejya says.

Keith smiles and inclines his head, admiring the sleek design of the speeder, despite its slightly battered state. “Yeah, I can handle this.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it. You can get out through that alley.” Rejya points at the narrow opening on their right, and Keith inclines his head again, most of his attention already on the speeder.

Rejya leaves Keith and hurries to the others, to the sounds of fighting.

Keith gets on the speeder and — after fidgeting with the controls a little — he gets it started and heads away from the fight. He doesn’t bother being subtle about it either; he dodges the turrets firing at him when the security systems spot him, driving faster, the wind beating against his helmet and armor.

Keith loves it.

After passing the town limits, Keith locates Jarok and his people to let them know of the situation, and though they have questions, Keith doesn’t stay to answer them. He orders them to find safety, then speeds away towards the Lions.

Driving through the forest is harder than driving through vast desert fields, but Keith relishes the challenge. Zarkon’s attention turns to him, curious at Keith’s sudden rush of excitement. Keith tries to share what he’s doing, the feel of the speed and the engine’s purr. In return, Zarkon gives Keith a sense of _close_ , and Keith knows he’ll reach Shiro and the others before Keith reaches the Lions. He doesn’t mind, the others need the help.

“Keith?” Shiro’s voice comes over the comms.

“Yeah,” Keith replies, dodging the group of trees in his way.

“You asked me to call you?”

“Give the bayard to Zarkon when he gets there,” Keith says. “He’s more efficient with it than you are, and if he sees you use it he’s gonna rip your arm off — and I’m not sure he’d take the prosthetic one.”

Shiro doesn’t reply immediately, but after a while he acknowledges Keith’s request. “Get back here as soon as you can.”

“I will,” Keith promises and disconnects the call.

Keith stops in the village and tells the Galra there to inform the other settlements on the planet about Zykov, and to contact the Empire to give them the village’s exact location.

One of the council members approaches Keith. “But the commander — “

“Knows we’re here. Your best bet is to make sure that the other Galra here know what’s going on and to make sure the Empire comes to keep your village safe,” Keith says. “Send the distress call. They’ll be here in a matter of keeseks anyways, so let them know where they’re needed.”

With that, Keith continues on his way.

He’s almost at the clearing when the rumble of the ships entering the atmosphere reaches his ears, but Keith doesn’t look up from the path before him.

Keith beelines for the Lions as soon as he’s in the clearing, and as he stops and dismounts he takes a second to glance up to the sky, but the ships aren’t there for him to see anymore.

Zarkon is confused, and as Keith approaches the Red Lion — he’d rather take Red than Black anytime — he assures Zarkon that he’s not that far away.

 _Please help them_ , he thinks as loudly and clearly as he can, and as Zarkon’s confusion turns to annoyance and then to a murderous urge he can’t do anything about, Keith knows he’s located Shiro.

The Red Lion doesn’t react to Keith, no matter how much he tries. She doesn’t even acknowledge Keith enough to let him enter. It hurts more than Keith thought it would, and Keith slumps on the ground, picking at the damp grass under him.

If the Red Lion doesn’t let him in, Keith knows his best chance is to turn to the Black Lion, but with Zarkon in his head...

Keith looks at the other Lions, but beyond the sense that they’re there he always has around them, they don’t react to him. Keith knows he could spend hours trying to coax them into letting him in to no avail. They want nothing to do with him.

For a brief moment, Keith thinks about calling Allura and saying that none of the Lions respond to him, but as much as he’d like to do that, he can’t; he still has one Lion to try before he can admit defeat and look himself in the mirror later on. His friends need help — Zarkon needs help, if the tension in the bond is anything to go by.

Keith’s ears droop and he sighs, wallowing in misery for just a second before steeling himself and standing up again. He turns to the Black Lion, his jaw set in determination.

Keith bridges the distance between him and the Black Lion, and places his hand on the cool metal. “I know I wasn’t exactly nice to you the last time we talked, but Shiro and the others need help, and I want to help them.”

The Black Lion doesn’t react, but unlike with the Red Lion, Keith knows she’s listening to him. It gives Keith the strength to continue. “I know you don’t want anything to do with Zarkon, and I know that him being in my head — even if you’re the one who put him there — can’t be easy for you.I don’t know what happened between the two of you, but I promise, he’s not the monster everyone makes him out to be; he’s just hurting and angry.”

Keith stops to wait, but though the Black Lion doesn’t pull away from Keith, she doesn’t let him in either. So Keith continues, “I’m not asking you to let Zarkon anywhere near you, just help me save him and the others.”

When the Black Lion doesn’t let him in, Keith drops his hand with an angry huff and turns his back to the Lion before dropping back to the ground. He pulls his helmet off and runs his hands through his hair, his tail smacking against the grass.

Despite being in a less than ideal situation, Zarkon turns his attention to Keith, doing his best to soothe Keith’s sour mood. Keith clings to Zarkon and lets him wrap himself around Keith’s mind.

Keith should just call Allura and say he can’t do what she wants him to do, but Keith doesn’t really want to admit failure.

Something brushes against Keith’s mind, and it takes him a second to realize it’s the Black Lion, curious and tentative as she hovers just at the edges of Keith’s consciousness where Zarkon won’t spot her. Not that Zarkon is focusing on anything but Keith’s dispirited mood; he’s surrounding Keith, wrapping Keith in soothing warmth, doing his best to assure Keith that he hasn’t done anything wrong despite the state of the bond making it difficult — especially in the situation Zarkon is in. Keith clings to Zarkon, ignoring the Lion, and pulls his knees up so that he can press his forehead against them and close his eyes for a second as he tries to come up with a solution to his situation.

Keith doesn’t get a chance to come up with anything before the Black Lion comes to life. Keith’s surprise at it directs Zarkon’s attention to the Lion, and Keith has to forcibly shove Zarkon away as he scrambles to his feet and rushes toward the Lion.

It’s a horrible idea and Keith knows it, but the others need his help.

Keith shoves Zarkon out of his mind as he takes the seat and — after a deep breath — guides the Lion to the skies and towards the town and Zarkon.

 

* * *

 

The arrival of the Galra is a blessing, though one Shiro never expected to experience. If the situation wasn’t so dire, he’d ask Zarkon how he got there so fast, but as it is he’s just happy to have the help.

The Galra had stopped firing the second they had seen Zarkon approach them, shock and fear taking over their expressions. Shiro had taken the chance to make sure everyone on his side was okay.

 _“_ I’m going to find Zecki,” Rejya whispers and disappears into the shadows while the Galra try to decide how they should react to Zarkon glaring at them.

Zarkon has ditched his less formal clothing, but the armor he’s wearing isn’t the kind he’d worn before. It glows, like it’s embedded with quintessence, though Shiro doesn’t think that’s what’s going on — it can’t be.

Shiro looks over to Allura, and he’s not surprised to see Hunk talking quietly to her or the fury in her eyes at the sight of Zarkon. Shiro opens a comm line to her and whispers her name a few times until she turns to look at him. “I know you hate him, but right now we can’t afford to attack him, okay? Why don’t you go help Rejya? Figure out who the people her friend is with are and if they know anything about the people attacking us.”

“I don’t need — “

“Please,” Shiro says, then sighs. “I don’t want more conflict than necessary, and I don’t trust him to not hurt you if he sees you.”

Allura’s expression softens minutely. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

“Trust me, I know that,” Shiro assures her, “but while you might be able to take on an entire army, the rest of us aren’t. And besides, when Keith gets here with the Lion, I want at least one of us away from here and ready to either offer back up if Zarkon tries to take the Lion or take the rest of the Lions away if it comes down to that.”

“Keith wouldn’t hand the Red Lion to Zarkon,” Allura says, but there’s a hint of uncertainty in her voice.

“I don’t think he’s gonna be bringing Red here,” Shiro says. “The Black Lion’s already tried to get Keith to pilot her once.”

Allura doesn’t reply immediately. “I’ll make sure Rejya gets out of the town safely, then I’ll go get the Blue Lion, and I’ll make sure this time Zarkon doesn’t survive.”

Shiro almost tells her no, that Keith would never forgive them for hurting Zarkon again, but he doesn’t. They are at war, and their goal is to stop Zarkon, and no matter how much it might hurt Keith, things are bigger than him — bigger than any of them.

“I trust you to know what you’re doing,” Shiro says.

Allura nods and sneaks away before Zarkon can see her. After a few seconds, Antok follows her without a word.

“Okay, guys?” Shiro waits until the others acknowledge him before continuing; “we’re not going to attack Zarkon — no, listen. We need the Empire on our side right now; we can’t fight both Zykov and Zarkon at the same time, not without Voltron.”

The others grumble, but they see where Shiro’s coming from so they don’t argue.

After assessing the situation, Shiro stands and walks up to Zarkon, despite the less than pleased look he receives from Zarkon for it. He shows Zarkon the bayard which only makes Zarkon’s expression darken more.

Shiro hurries to his side nevertheless. “Keith told me to give it to you,” he explains quietly, and it makes Zarkon look at him with little less murder in his eyes.

Zarkon takes the bayard and it’s shape shifts, but Shiro has other things to pay attention to. Like the less than happy looking lieutenants pretending they’re not hiding behind the sentries.

“Any chance you could at least get the sentries to back down?” Shiro asks, sure to keep his voice low.

Instead of replying, Zarkon raises the bayard, which forms into a weapon — more like a cannon, really — and fires at the sentries. The lieutenants and the few officers with them run the second they see Zarkon raise his hand, but the slowest of them get caught in the blast, dying instantly, save for the one who manages to drag himself around the corner.

Shiro jumps back, shocked at what just happened.

Zarkon turns to him. “They are dealt with.”

Shiro stares at the destruction, unable to believe what he’s seeing. “You... you fired on your own people.”

Zarkon tilts his head. “Machines and state traitors, hardly worth consideration.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to say, so he just stares at Zarkon in disbelieving silence. It’s not that he expected Zarkon to care about the lives he takes, but Keith had gone to such lengths to convince Shiro that the Galra are a strong community and that Zarkon would never willingly harm them.

It’s just one more thing Keith is wrong about when it comes to Zarkon, but it doesn’t make Shiro happy.

“I think it would benefit us all if you were to explain this mess to me,” Zarkon says.

Shiro almost argues, but they need Zarkon on their side. “We’re looking for... a friend, who was invited to stay with some people here — the same that the guy who Keith fought in the Arena.”

“Vazka,” Zarkon supplies, his voice gaining a dark edge to it.

“Yeah, she’s looking into them because they might be connected to the people attacking both of us. We haven’t heard from her in a while so we came here to check on her, and Zykov was already here. We tried to sneak past his people — “

“You clearly failed,” Zarkon cuts in.

Shiro barely resists the urge to roll his eyes. “Clearly.”

Zarkon studies Shiro, judgmental and displeased, but after a few second he turns and heads down the street. “Where is Keith?”

Shiro hurries after Zarkon, waving the others to follow. Zarkon narrows his eyes at them, but doesn’t comment on their presence.

“Keith went to get backup,” Shiro replies.

Zarkon gives him a politely quizzical look, but Shiro doesn’t want to tell him the truth. The only reason he doesn’t tell Zarkon it’s none of his business is that Keith showing up with a Lion is going to be impossible for Zarkon to miss. “The Lions are a few hours — varga — away from here and Keith was the only one who could drive a speeder we found.”

Zarkon’s expression gives nothing away, but Shiro doesn’t allow himself to think he doesn’t care about what he just heard.

Shiro ignores the bounding of his head as they follow Zarkon through the conspicuously empty streets. Zarkon leads them to the town clearing where Zykov is waiting for them behind dozens of sentries and his surviving lieutenants. Zykov is arguing with a few other commanders that Zarkon must have brought with him, so he doesn’t notice Shiro and the others immediately.

“Stay hidden,” Zarkon orders before making his way to his people.

Seeing how the Emperor walking in with the Empire’s biggest enemy would be bad for them all, Shiro orders his team to take cover. The arguing seizes as Zarkon joins the Galra, but Shiro and the others are too far away to hear what they are saying.

“Hello?” Coran’s voice drags Shiro’s attention from the scene before them.

“Yeah?”

“I thought I’d let you know that I called the Rebellion to help; apparently they already had someone on the ground, and they should be in your position in a matter of ten dobashes at most. They said that one of their agents has been looking into something of interest on the planet, but they couldn’t tell what.”

Shiro frowns. “The people Zecki is looking into?”

“Possibly, though I don’t see why the Rebellion wouldn’t just say so,” Coran replies. “I also noticed a few Galra ships entering the orbit.”

“Zarkon’s here,” Shiro replies. “We got into some trouble and Keith called him. He’s talking to the rouge commander — Zykov — at the moment.”

“Well.” Coran clears his throat, his discomfort obvious clear in his voice. “I hope things sort themselves out.”

“Yeah, me too.” Shiro glances at the Galra. “What are the Galra up there doing?”

“Evacuating the other side of the planet, it would seem; the village near you as well.”

Shiro blinks, sharing a surprised look with the others. “They’re... evacuating the entire planet?”

“It would seem so,” Coran confirms.

It would explain why Zarkon is there with two commanders and a handful of lieutenants; the rest must be busy getting the civilians away.

“Let me know when — “

An explosion drowns out Shiro’s words. He bolts from his hiding place, scanning the formerly intact clearing for Zarkon. Keith will never forgive him if he lets something happen to Zarkon. Keith won’t —

Shiro breathes a sigh of relief at the sight of the lieutenant that might actually be bigger than Antok dragging Zarkon away while a commander covers their escape.

“Lance, get to a high ground and cover us. Pidge, see if you can hack Zykov’s defense systems. Hunk, cover Pidge while she works,” Shiro orders.

“What are you going to do?” Lance asks even as he scans the high grounds for a good spot.

Shiro grimaces. “I’m going to try to keep peace between us and Zarkon’s people.”

With that, Shiro runs across the clearing to where the lieutenant is hauling Zarkon behind a low stone wall — more of a divider between the clearing and the two buildings that Shiro suspects have some significance, perhaps they’re apartment buildings — with flowers planted on top of the wall and vines climbing along it, making it seem less like a wall and more of a decoration.

The commander points a gun at Shiro’s face the moment Shiro slides behind the wall as well, and Shiro freezes. For a moment, he thinks Zarkon is going to let the commander shoot him.

“Cenzi.”

The commander glances at Zarkon.

“No.”

Cenzi frowns. “But he’s —“

“I am fully aware of what he is, but I have use for him. You on the other hand would be better utilized in ensuring the safety of the village’s workers that are still here.” Zarkon levels Cenzi with a hard look, and Cenzi bows his head and does what Zarkon wants him to do.

The lieutenant stays by Zarkon’s side.

“Any chance you’d know how to disable those defenses?” Shiro asks as another round of shots is fired at them.

“If you cannot figure it out on your own, I will not assist you with it,” Zarkon replies, seeming oddly absent considering the situation they are in.

Shiro grits his teeth. He supposes he shouldn’t be surprised that Zarkon doesn’t want to help him take on the Galra, even if it means he’s risking his own life.

Still, Shiro is about to shoot back a less than nice comment when a figure a long coat, scarves and a mask — the person who had stared at Keith at the dinner Zykov had attacked — appears from the narrow alleyway next to their hiding place. And he’s carrying a sour looking Gai.

Before Shiro can say anything, Zarkon growls, the sound low and ominous. The Rebel drops Gai in Zarkon’s arms before backing off — a smart move if there ever was one.

Gai stares at Zarkon with wide eyes, and he doesn’t move a muscle as Zarkon hands him over to the lieutenant by his side.

Shiro shifts, eyeing the Rebel agent even as he addresses Gai. “Weren’t you supposed to leave?”

Gai blinks, his eyes still fixed on Zarkon, but after a while he regains his voice enough to answer Shiro quietly; “ _Vala_ is at the fields.”

Shiro doesn’t press the matter, as Gai doesn’t seem like he’s in a state where he can hold a conversation and both the lieutenant and Zarkon give Shiro warning looks. So Shiro turns his attention to the Rebel agent. “Did you see Allura? She would’ve come your way. She was going to check on Rejya — a friend of ours.”

The Rebel tilts his head, considering, then nods slowly, purposefully, and Shiro is satisfied with it. If Allura had made it out of the thick of the fighting, she can get Rejya and her friend out of there and get to the Lions, and they can all leave the planet as soon as possible, and leave the Galra to fight among themselves.

“How are we going to defend ourselves if we can’t even look over the edge of our cover?” Shiro asks as he turns back to Zarkon, raising a questioning eyebrow.

Zarkon sighs — actually sighs — and turns to Shiro. “You are not very smart.”

Shiro frowns, but he doesn’t dignify Zarkon’s comment with a reply.

“You have no knowledge of how to fight a war, do you?” Zarkon continues. “You do not win battles by overpowering your enemies and attacking them mindlessly, you win them by ensuring your enemy does not want to attack you in the first place. It is very much like ruling and politics, in a way.”

“And how are we supposed to do that?” Shiro waves his hand at the sounds coming from behind the wall. “They sure seem to be winning with their manpower and mindless shooting.”

Zarkon smiles. “It is all in how you present yourself. Timing and some dramatics go a long way, as well.”

Shiro is too confused to reply, and when the turrets die down and Zarkon marches out from behind the cover, Shiro doesn’t stop him.

The Rebel tries to grab Zarkon’s cape, though he doesn’t succeed.

Zykov allows Zarkon to reach the middle of the clearing while he himself remains at a safe distance. Shiro peeks over the edge of his cover, observing the scene before him.

“You cannot win,” Zarkon declares. “I am willing to accept your surrender and you will be taken in alive and tried, or you can die where you stand.”

Zykov barks a laugh, the sound of it echoing in the quiet clearing. “I have a small army and excellent automated weapons systems. What do you have that would ever make us give up our lives to you?”

“Keith,” Zarkon replies.

Shiro frowns and shares a glance with the Rebel and the confused lieutenant.

Then, as if summoned by Zarkon, the Black Lion lands on the clearing and roars.

Shiro blinks, trying to understand how Zarkon knew Keith was so close. Maybe it’s the Galra hearing, it’s the only explanation that makes sense.

The Black Lion swipes at the nearest sentries, taking them out, and the turrets start firing again, all of them aimed at the Lion and Zarkon.

The Lion moves to shield Zarkon lowers its head to protect him from the worst of the firing, and when Keith moves the Lion slightly to the left, Zarkon takes the opportunity to fire on the nearest turret, taking it out instantly.

Keith keeps using Black to shield Zarkon, then he moves away just enough for Zarkon to fire, and then he returns to protecting Zarkon. They work so seamlessly Shiro has trouble believing they’re not communicating in some way. It’s not until someone fires at Zarkon from the sides that Keith moves from Zarkon — just for a second. Zarkon stumbles, but he doesn’t fall, and Shiro’s not sure if it’s because he dodged the attack aimed at him or if he was hit.

The lieutenant by Shiro’s side lets out an alarmed noise, clutching Gai with one arm while he pulls his gun and fires at a sentry with the other.

The Rebel agent runs towards Zarkon, dodging the turres’ fire expertly. He dives under Black’s leg as Keith moves back to covering Zarkon, and — to Shiro’s disbelief and shock — picks Zarkon up and turns on his heels.

Zarkon must be too surprised to react to what’s going on as the Rebel agent hauls him back behind the cover.

As soon as he’s sitting safely on the ground, Zarkon shoves the Rebel away, baring his teeth for a few seconds. “Do not touch me.”

The Rebel bares his neck, and Zarkon turns his attention to Shiro. “Open a comm line to Keith.”

“Why would I — “

“Do it, or I will start breaking your bones and do it myself.” Zarkon glares at Shiro, and after a few seconds Shiro pulls his helmet off and turns the volume of his commline up, and opens a line to the Black Lion.

“You are focusing on the wrong target,” Zarkon states the second Keith acknowledges the open comm line. “Take out the automated defenses first.”

“I know what I’m doing, thanks,” Keith replies, his voice almost drowned out by the lieutenant firing his weapon again.

The turrets firing rounds at a rapid pace gain support from cannons firing explosives powerful enough to shake the ground.

Zarkon is about to argue when the Rebel agent waves a roll of gauze in front of his face. When Zarkon frowns, the Rebel points the roll at Zarkon’s leg. Slowly, Zarkon accepts the gauze, and the Rebel retreats back to his corner.

Zarkon moves his cape enough for Shiro to see the bit of metal protruding from his leg. Zarkon yanks it out like it’s nothing before he returns his attention to Keith, even as he starts bandaging his leg. “You are taking out bugs when you should be taking out the real threat.”

“Stop backseat driving!” Keith yells, the explosions shaking the ground doing little to drown out his voice even through the comms. Shiro peeks over the wall just in time to see the Black Lion swipe one of the cannons near where Zykov just was.

“You are not driving, you are piloting,” Zarkon says matter of factly as he finishes bandaging his leg. “By definition I cannot ‘backseat drive’. I am instructing you.”

Keith lets out a litany of curses that make Shiro almost cover Gai’s ears to spare him from it. The lieutenant looks ready to do the same.

“If you are done, I would suggest you move to your left and focus your efforts on the primary cannons,” Zarkon says when Keith quiets down. “Or I could —”

“You are not doing this yourself and I don’t need help with this,” Keith snaps even as he moves the Lion to the left just like Zarkon told him to do.

Zarkon turns to the lieutenant, barely sparing Gai a look. “Find out where Zykov is, and take the child to a safer place.”

“Sire.” The lieutenant bows — Gai follows his example — and picks Gai up before hurrying to do as he’s told.

Keith makes quick work of the turrets and cannons, and as Shiro peeks from over the wall, he can see sentries falling seemingly for no reason. It must be Lance firing on them. Shiro looks to where Pidge and Hunk are, and though he sees Hunk firing his weapon every now and again, he can’t see Pidge. He trusts them to inform him if something would have happened so he doesn’t worry, but for a moment he wishes Zarkon wasn’t there so that he could call them and ask them how the hacking is coming along.

“Guys, we have a problem,” Keith says, dragging Shiro’s attention back to him.

“What is it?”

“There’s a cannon on my two o’clock I can’t take out without leaving you uncovered.”

Shiro curses under his breath. “Hold on.” He switches the channel to Lance. “There’s a cannon on Keith’s two o’clock. Can you handle it?”

“No. I can’t even see it, and I’ve got a sniper trying to get me,” Lance replies.

Zarkon studies the scene while Shiro wishes Lance good luck and switches the channel back to Keith.

“Lance is pinned.”

“I don’t know if I can safely leave you,” Keith says. “I could try but — “

“Throw me,” Zarkon cuts in, shocking everyone into silence.

“What?” Keith asks after several long seconds.

Zarkon unclasps his cape and checks his bayard as he answers; “you are going to throw me. It is rather simple; I will get onto the Lion and — “

“You’re not getting in the Lion,” Keith states.

Zarkon takes a deep breath and pushes the cape into Shiro’s hands. “ _Onto_ the Lion, not into it. We do not have the time to argue about this. You are going to throw me — give me a boost, to be exact — so that I can reach the cannon.”

“Okay?” Keith sounds as hesitating as Shiro feels.

Zarkon takes Keith’s hesitation as confirmation and stands. He heads out of the shelter and as if he hasn’t just pulled a piece of metal from his leg, runs at the Lion.

 

* * *

 

Keith knows the exact moment Zarkon touches the Lion. Not because of sensors or the bond, but because of the way Black flinches away from Zarkon.

“It’s okay,” Keith assures the Lion, even though he’s not sure of it.

It’s not like he can stop Zarkon from changing his mind and coming in.

The comm line crackles, then a voice Keith has never heard before comes through; “You have to tilt the Lion’s head.”

“What?”

“Your Emperor is hurt and you have to compensate for that.”

It gives Keith a stop. He pokes Zarkon through the bond, demanding an explanation. Zarkon waves him off, but Keith knows better than to trust him.

“What am I supposed to do?” Keith asks the mystery person. He’s using Shiro’s comm line and he’s trying to help Keith and Zarkon; he seems trustworthy enough.

“You need to angle the Lion in a way that when you give your Emperor a boost, you will ensure that he has an easier time going where he wants to go — take the Lion’s head a little lower than you think you need, use a little more force when you give him a boost, take him a little higher than you need to, and angle a little more in the direction he wants to go, alright? It isn’t hard.”

Keith bites his lip, unsure of the whole thing. Zarkon’s impatience fills the bond, and Keith shakes his head. “I’ll try.”

It’s all he can do.

The Black Lion doesn’t want Zarkon on her, and getting her to move in the way Keith wants is just a bit harder than it should be for a second or two. Zarkon makes his way to the Lion’s nose and Keith lowers the Lion’s head, asking for one last reassurance from Zarkon through the bond.

When Keith get it, he pulls Black’s head up as fast and as forcibly as he can, making sure he’s angling the Lion the way he needs to. Zarkon uses the momentum with the boosters in his armor to propel himself over the rooftop and to the cannon firing at the clearing.

A second passes, then another, but the cannon never fires again.

Keith takes care of the remaining turrets while Hunk and Lance do quick work of the few sentries and Galra still lingering around.

Keith pulls at the bond and Zarkon assures him he’s fine. It’s enough for Keith to drag his attention from Zarkon to Shiro.

It might not be smart, but Keith runs from the Lion, needing to see Shiro and make sure he’s alright. The outside of the Lion smells like smoke and ash, but Shiro’s there, rubbing his head and moving just a bit slower than he should as he approaches Keith, Zarkon’s cape draped across his arm. A stranger is following him, but going by the way Shiro acts around him, Keith doesn’t expect him to be a danger.

Even Hunk, Pidge and Lance hurry from their spots and into the clearing.

The stranger pulls Shiro out of the way a second before the blade whip hits the ground where Shiro was just standing, and Shiro loses his grip on Zarkon’s cape.

It takes Keith a second too long to recover, and Zarkon strikes at Shiro again, but the stranger saves Shiro again. The rage in Keith’s mind is not entirely his own, but Keith doesn’t let that stop him as he rushes to Shiro and put himself between him and Zarkon.

Keith is so sure in his belief that Zarkon would never harm him that Shiro has to yank him out of the way when Zarkon swing the whip at them again. Keith is mortified by what almost happened, and Zarkon’s anger in his mind has vanished as well, replaced by shock.

Keith is the one to regain his anger first, and he rushes Zarkon putting all of his strength into shoving Zarkon back. “Fuck you!”

Zarkon takes a step back, his shock making way for fury as Keith’s actions register in his mind.

Keith doesn’t take his eyes off of Zarkon. “Shiro, take the Lion and the others away.”

“Touch the Lion and I will tear you all to shreds,” Zarkon says, his voice dangerously low. He turns his cold eyes to Shiro, staring him as if that’s all he needs to do to get him to obey, and if Keith wasn’t there, it might just be enough.

“Shiro.” Keith glances over his shoulder. “Take the Lion and the others and leave. Now.”

It gets Shiro and the others moving, and when Zarkon moves towards Shiro, Keith shoves him again. “Don’t even think about it!”

Zarkon grits his teeth, sending a flare of anger through the bond. The bayard lights up in his hand, but before he can attack anyone or the bayard can take proper form, Keith grabs Zarkon’s hand and presses the bayard against his own chest.

“You want Shiro, you’re going through me.” Keith levels Zarkon with a determined glare.

Though Zarkon tries to pull the bayard from Keith, Keith refuses to let go of it until he hears the Black Lion come to life and fly away.

Zarkon tears himself free from Keith’s hold, firing a blast of energy after the Lion in an attempt to shoot it out of the sky, but the Lion is too far away. Zarkon roars, the sound of it more like what a big cat or a monster sounds in movies than anything, and it makes Keith flinch and draw back on instinct.

Zarkon turns to Keith, his eyes burning with fury, almost glimmering. He stalks towards Keith, and Keith takes a step back when Zarkon snarls at him. “You stupid, insolent child!”

Keith’s ears are flat against his head, and the only thing he can do is look away when Zarkon reaches him, stepping right into Keith’s personal space and looming over him, a low, dangerous growls emanating from his chest.

“That is _my_ Lion, and you let some insignificant, failure of a gladiator from a world no one has even heard of steal it.”

Keith bares his teeth, rage burning away the instinct to submit. “Don’t talk about Shiro like that; he’s a better person than you are.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Keith takes a step back, but he keeps his chin up defiantly. “Black chose Shiro, not you. Just get over it.”

For a moment, Keith expects Zarkon to hit him; he sure looks ready to do just that. But the strike never comes.

 _“_ The Black Lion is mine, and your opinion on the matter is irrelevant,” Zarkon states, his voice dangerously calm.

“It means that much to you?” Keith isn’t sure if he’s angry or hurt. Maybe both. “You almost killed me! You want the Lion that much?”

“It is mine, and I will not allow anything or anyone — not even you — to keep me from regaining it,” Zarkon states, so sure he’s right.

Something in Keith breaks, and his anger fades, replaced by a sense of emptiness. “You’d pick Black over me?”

Zarkon frowns, but he doesn’t reply.

Keith laughs, the sound of it hollow. “You’d pick what’s essentially a fancy robot over me?”

Zarkon opens his mouth, but Keith lifts his finger in warning. “No, you listen. I’ve put up with my friends talking shit about you and insisting I’ve been brainwashed. I’ve defended you, and I’ve been trying to decide if I can handle a relationship with Shiro as well as you, or if I should just let that go and stay with you.”

Keith’s anger rears its head again, and he takes a step closer to Zarkon, shoving his chest even if it does nothing. “You can be such a sadistic, dominating, abusive asshole. You kept me in a cell, and when I did _one_ thing you disagreed with — because wanting to stay on a couch is such a horrible offense — you left me in that cell until I almost died! You coerced me into acting like you wanted me to act, and you made me do the work no one else wanted to do, and you locked me in that fucking dark — “

Keith buries his hands in his hair and he takes a moment to walk a few steps away from Zarkon, needing the distance and a moment to calm down.

“You _knew_ what that cell did to me, and you still left me there until I went crazy, and then you had me crawl around naked and blind and act as your pet whenever you didn’t lock me behind a barrier I couldn’t even see. And don’t tell me Haggar couldn’t have fixed my sight sooner, I know she could have. You just did that because you liked seeing me like that. Just like you only threw me in that same cell, even when you knew what it did to me, again; it made you feel better. You order me around and you expect me to bend to your will, and everything has to go your way. You even destroyed my clothes because you didn’t like them. Who does that?”

Keith levels Zarkon with a hard look, but when he speaks again, his tone is softer; “I love you, so I let it go. I let you get away with so much shit, and I know — _I know_ — you can be better, I’ve seen it. I’m not saying that when you’re kind and gentle with me, it’s not real because I know it is. I know it’s real when you listen to me and take my opinion into account. I let you get away with all the bad things because for some reason I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone and sometimes your shitty behavior is really endearing, but I’m not going to be a second choice to a fucking mechanical lion.”

“ _Ichkya —_ “

“Don’t _ichkya_ me,” Keith snaps. “You just almost killed me to get to a machine. You think I’m just gonna ignore that like I do all the other shit you’ve put me through? No. I’m not a second choice, and I’m not going to be pushed aside for the Lion or any other reason; I have to come before a robot, or we’re not gonna work.”

Zarkon stares at Keith, the rage gone from his face. His shields have snapped up at some point so Keith can’t feel what he feels, and Keith pulls his own shields up just to keep Zarkon out of his mind for now.

A moment passes, but Zarkon doesn’t say anything. It shatters something inside Keith and he turns on his heels and he walks away.

“Keith,” Zarkon calls after him, his voice more unsure than Keith has ever heard it.

But Keith keeps walking, the hurt at Zarkon’s inability to even say that Keith matters to him making it impossible for him to turn around. He just needs a moment to calm down, that’s all. He’ll get back to Zarkon when he’s not hurting so much.

“ _Keith_!”

Tears stream down Keith’s cheeks, but he keeps walking until he reaches the Black Lion and Shiro waiting for him in the edges of the town.

Shiro doesn’t ask Keith what happened, and Keith gets into the Lion without a word, even if he wants nothing more than to run back to Zarkon.

 

* * *

 

Zarkon waits.

He waits for Keith to return; he waits as the ticks pass and turn into keeseks. He does not move even when the fires start to die around him.

But Keith does not return.

No. He has to return, he had promised to never leave. The last time they had had a fight that had ended in Keith calling their relationship to an end, he had not truly meant it, surely this is a similar situation. Surely Keith will soon hurry down the street towards him and they can return home together like they are supposed to.

Zarkon is not sure how long it has been when the child wanders to him, but he spares the child no mind. He is not what Zarkon wants.

“Um... did we win? Sire?”

Zarkon ignores the boy. After half a keesek he joins Zarkon’s side and they stand there, both waiting, Zarkon for Keith, the child for whatever children wait. Half a dozen or so of the workers from the fields wander to them, looking at Zarkon like he will deliver them to safety, but Zarkon cannot do that, no matter how much he wants to.

After few more keeseks, Haggar appears by Zarkon’s side. “My lord?”

Zarkon does not remove his attention from the street before him. A thought passes his mind — a ridiculous, silly thought — that if he does not keep watch, Keith will not return and it will be his fault for not waiting.

Haggar takes a step closer. “Zarkon?”

Haggar has a talent for fixing all of Zarkon’s problems — one of the things that are so clearly Honerva about her.

“Keith,” Zarkon says more quietly than he intended, but it is all he has to say for Haggar to know what the problem is and do something about it. Perhaps she can go tell Keith to hurry back; they should be going by now.

His commanders join them along with their most trusted lieutenants, but so does Zykov and his remaining people. Zarkon should do something about it, but Keith...

Why is he not coming back? Did Zarkon not give him everything he asked for? Did he not spare his friends’ lives — allowed them to roam his ships, even? He gave a useless people water to make Keith happy, and he left his Empire to save Keith.

“My Lord?” Cenzi takes a step closer to him. “We have evacuated the civilians from the towns and the village” — not the one they’re in, apparently — “and we are wondering why we have not given an order to depart?”

“Isn’t it obvious? He’s waiting for the half-breed to fly back here,” Zykov answers.

“Silence!” Haggar steps forward. “You are already facing charges for treason, you would be wise to not add more charges to that.”

The air shifts and Zarkon’s eyes flicker to his commanders, just for a half a tick. They are too anxious, too ready to hear what Zykov has to say. What has Lotor done to his people?

The commanders attention turns to Zarkon, and — finally telling himself that staring at the street will not bring Keith back any faster — he turns to them. But he cannot find his voice fast enough, and doubt creeps into the commanders’ eyes.

“You may depart,” Zarkon says, but nobody moves. The civilians shift, and after a few long ticks, they move to stand behind their Emperor.

“I think they are waiting to hear what you have to say about the half-breed,” Zykov says. Haggar takes another step forward, but Zarkon touches her arm briefly before she can do something unwise — like murder Zykov on the spot and give his words more legitimacy. “You did just order your army to attack your own people to protect him and the Paladins of Voltron — his friends — correct?”

Perhaps Zarkon should have allowed Haggar to act.

“Why should we follow someone who will turn on his own people to please a half-breed outworlder?” Zykov spreads his arms, getting more fire in his words. “Why am I considered a traitor for wanting what is best for my people, but you can side with _Voltron_ to humor someone who didn’t even look like us until recently, and who is not here, but with our enemies?”

The silence that follows is deafening, and Zarkon does not think it wise to react.

The tension builds, becoming something tangible — something Zarkon thinks he could touch if he were to reach out — until one of the commanders snaps and opens fire on Zykov.

Chaos breaks out as everyone fires on each other. Zarkon stares at the fighting, unable to fully process what he is seeing. It makes no sense. He did not give an order to attack.

Pain flares in Zarkon’s side, but though he knows he’s been shot, he does not take cover. It was not Zykov that fired on him, but one of his own lieutenants. Why would one of them be firing at him?

The child screams, and as the lieutenant readies for another shot, Zarkon crouches down to cover the child from the shot.

The second shot goes through Zarkon’s shoulder, almost hitting the child. Zarkon pushes the boy lower, almost forcing him to lie on the ground as the third shot goes through his middle.

Suddenly, Haggar is there, and Zarkon pulls the child back into his arms, holding him as close as he can, covering his eyes as the reality distorts around them.

Zarkon hates it, not because he finds the distortion uncomfortable, but because it reminds him too much of flying the Black Lion. The Lion — unlike Haggar — took him fully to the astral plane. Haggar can only take him halfway there, and she cannot stay in the halfway space between the plane of the living and the astral plane for long.

Reality crashes back into focus around them. The town is still visible in the distance, but Zarkon cannot focus on it. The child screams in his arms still and Haggar is running her hands over him, her concerned voice talking to him, though Zarkon cannot make out her words.

She pulls away, but Zarkon does not care.

Keith had not returned. Why had Keith not returned?

Why were his own people firing at him?

Zarkon gasps for breath, trying to understand what is going on.

Haggar pulls him to his feet and Zarkon has to let go of the child. He takes the child’s hand as Haggar supports him and pulls him a little further away from the town and to the shuttle landing near them.

Haggar is speaking and someone is trying to pull the child from Zarkon’s hold, but he cannot hear her voice properly, and he is not letting go of the child.

The shuttle takes them straight to Haggar’s ship, and the druids waiting for them when they disembark the shuttle push Zarkon onto a gurney, forcing him to let go of the child. It is not until Zarkon is lying down that he realizes he had barely walked out of the shuttle himself.

 _“Itsa_ ,” he says, his voice sounding distant even to his ears.

“We are taking care of him,” someone above Zarkon’s head replies.

The druids take Zarkon to their laboratories. Someone injects Zarkon with a sedative as Haggar’s face hovers in the edges of his vision.

_Why had Keith not returned to him?_

When Zarkon wakes up, he is hooked to machine, again, and Keith is not there. The child is curled on a chair by his bedside, fast asleep.

Haggar is also there, studying the readings of the monitors.

“Where is Keith?” Zarkon asks. It seems like an easier thing to focus on than his own people opening fire on him.

Haggar stops and turns to him. “With the Paladins.” She moves to Zarkon’s side when Zarkon does not respond. “Should I retrieve him?”

Zarkon wants to say yes, but Keith had claimed Zarkon does not allow him to make decisions — that Zarkon is too controlling.

Is he?

He does not think so, but he cannot change the way Keith feels. And it is not like Keith had been entirely wrong with all of his words. Zarkon had hurt him, he had purposefully put Keith in a position where he was at Zarkon’s mercy.

“No,” Zarkon says, even though it hurts.

“Sire?”

Zarkon does not tell her his reasoning. She can make her own conclusions.

Haggar finishes checking the monitors and she heads towards the door with an order for Zarkon to rest for a few more varga before getting up, but stops halfway there, then returns to Zarkon’s side, not quite meeting his eyes.

“I know he means lot to you,” she starts. Zarkon does not reply. “And I know I am not what you want me to be, and I am sorry for it.”

An irrational urge to take her hand washes over Zarkon, but he does not move.

“I do want you happy, and if having Keith here will accomplish that I will fetch him,” Haggar says. “I can make him want to be here, to be exactly what you want him to be like, and — “

“No.” Zarkon looks at her, finally truly looks at her. “I want him... to be as he is.”

Haggar frowns. “But he might never return; you will not be happy.”

Zarkon tries to smile, but it is too forced so he lets it go. “I want him to remain him. I do not want him to change.”

Haggar studies Zarkon, confused, almost. Then she sighs and sits on the edge of Zarkon’s bed. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For what I did to us.” Haggar looks away. “I am sorry I cannot be what you want me to be anymore.”

Zarkon stares at her, unable to see her expression from behind the hood covering her face. “Haggar?”

Her shoulders pull slightly up, but she does not turn.

“Honerva?”

“Is he worth all of this? Of our home?”

It takes Zarkon a few ticks to realize she is not talking of Keith anymore. “Yes.”

“Despite how much of a disappointment he is?”

“He could have used a mother,” Zarkon replies.

Haggar turns to him, a sad smile gracing her face. “He could have used a less cold father.”

Zarkon lets the comment go. After a while, Haggar sighs, then pushes her hood off her face and lets the purple fade from her skin. It is the first time in years Zarkon has truly seen her, and something lodges in his throat. “I told you I’m not cut out to be a parent. I was never going to be the ideal mother you wanted me to be. You were always going to be the one he was going to prefer.”

Zarkon frowns. Yes, he remembers her hesitation at the idea of having a child, but he also remembers how happy she had been when they had realized that _this_ was the time things would go differently, how it had been her who had stayed up all night trying to settle on the name — not even a real name, but a combination of two words that mean more or less the same thing in Galran and Altean.

She had been the one who had wanted to go into the rift.

She had been the one who had come out of the ordeal having suffered the most.

“I miss you,” Zarkon admits, perhaps for the first time since Daibazaal was... since it was still there.

Haggar does not reply, but after a while she lies down by Zarkon’s side and wraps her arms around him. “I am here, always, even if it’s not in the way you wish.”

Zarkon knows it, and he is not angry or resentful for her having changed so much, even if he sometimes wishes it had not happened.

“If you want Keith I will get him for you. As annoying as he is, I do thing he’s good for you. You are more like you used to be around him,” Haggar offers again.

Zarkon holds her tighter, and closes his eyes. “No, he wants to return on his own terms. I promised him I would allow him to do just that, and I cannot break that promise without losing him.”

Haggar shifts and lays her hand over Zarkon’s heart, her silence turning thoughtful. “He matters that much to you?”

Rather than answering, Zarkon closes his eyes and allows himself to pretend their relationship is what it was so many centuries ago. He does not think of Keith being so far away, not when he has Honerva there, for the fleeting moment before she disappears, and Zarkon is left alone again.

Keith has to come back. Zarkon is not sure he could survive losing him as well in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter next week when I should also have more time to write so hopefully I'll finally catch up with my writing schedule.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting this now because I don't have time to edit early next week, and I don't want to fall too far behind in my updating schedule. Would've gotten this edited a bit sooner if I hadn't gotten so caught up in reading Into the Drowning Deep this morning. Basically I started reading it with the intention of getting a few chapters further into the book but ended up finishing it because it was awesome.

Shiro flies the Black Lion and an extremely upset Keith to the Castleship after dropping the others to their Lions. His new rebel friend had opted to go to his own ship, and he hadn’t joined them when they had left Keith and Zarkon in that town clearing —  when Shiro had still thought Keith might not come back at all. The Rebel hadn’t even accepted a lift to his ship when Shiro had offered him one.

All they have left to do is wait for Rejya, Antok, and Allura’s return.

But they don’t return.

They’re all worried, and when Lance decides he’ll go look for Allura — maybe she’s just making her way to Blue like she’d said she was doing when Coran had called her when the others had returned — but they all want to be sure.

“I’ll check on Rejya and Antok as well,” Lance promises before hurrying back to the planet.

Coran takes the opportunity to force Shiro into getting checked out. Shiro ends up changing his armor to normal clothes at the same time, mostly because his under armor suit has too much dried blood on it, and it reminds Shiro too much of being in the Arena. And besides, if they need to get going, he can be back in his armor fast enough.

Hopefully Lance returns with Allura before that happens.

 

* * *

 

Keith can’t breathe. He stumbles into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. He splashes cold water on his face, but he can’t calm down.

And he _can’t breathe_.

His heart beats too fast and his head feels hollow without Zarkon there tangling himself in his thoughts.

Keith wants to go back to Zarkon. He wants to go back to that planet and run into Zarkon’s arms and apologize for what he’d said and promise he’ll never do it again. He’d even let Zarkon order him to crawl on the ground again in the way he’d done before they started their relationship if it would fix things.

But Keith can’t do that. He can’t just leave and return to Zarkon no matter how much he might want to do that. He can’t just fix thing by saying he’ll play pet to Zarkon if that’s what he wants.

Keith looks at his reflection, at his too bright and wide eyes, at his messed up braid and the tears streaking his face.

Did he just break up with Zarkon?

If he had the guts he’d try to reach Zarkon through the bond, but they both had pulled their shields up, and Keith doesn’t know how to begin to pull them down.

Keith draws in a shaky breath and starts undoing his braid, but his hair gets tangled in itself, and Keith can’t handle it in that moment. In a flash of frustration and anger, he pulls out his dagger and cuts the whole braid off.

The braid doesn’t have a chance to hit the ground before Keith regrets what he’d done. Keith stares at the mirror in shock, barely unable to process his considerably shorter bangs falling on his face.

What has he done?

Zarkon loves his hair, why would he cut it?

The dagger falls from Keith’s hand and clatters to the floor, and moments later Keith slumps on the ground as well. He pulls his knees up to his chest and presses his forehead against them, wrapping his arms around his legs.

Keith doesn’t know how long he’s on the floor, but eventually the door opens and closes. Keith knows it’s Shiro without having to look up, but the silence that falls into the bathroom is heavy and still.

A few seconds later the lock clicks, and then Shiro is there, kneeling in front of Keith, touching his arms tenderly. “What did you do to your hair?”

Keith shakes his head, a miserable sob escaping his lips. “I didn’t mean to — I just... I couldn’t get it undone. I didn’t mean to cut it.”

Shiro rubs Keith’s arm almost absently, but Keith doesn’t look up.

“It’ll grow back,” Shiro says after a while, and though Keith knows he’s right, it’s a thin comfort.

It still gets Keith to look up. “How bad is it?”

Shiro hums and runs his had through Keith’s hair, a thoughtful look on his face. “It could be worse. We’ll get Tral here to fix it a little and it’ll look great.”

Keith sniffles and looks at Shiro, of his comforting smile, and throws himself into Shiro’s arms. Shiro lets out a small noise of surprise, but puts his arms around Keith.

Keith buries his face in Shiro’s neck and breathes in the familiar, comforting scent of him. Shiro holds him close, running his hand up and down Keith’s back soothingly.

After a moment, Keith nuzzles Shiro’s cheek, then presses a soft kiss on the corner of his mouth. Shiro turns to Keith, his expression questioning, and Keith takes the opportunity to kiss him.

Kissing Shiro is better than thinking about Zarkon.

And Shiro kisses him back.

Encouraged by Shiro’s response, Keith pulls Shiro closer, trapping him, deepening the kiss until he can slip his tongue into Shiro’s mouth. Shiro isn’t quite quick enough to respond, but Keith ignores it, needing the distraction. Keith moans and leans back, pulling Shiro down to the floor with him. He undoes Shiro’s vest and pushes it off his shoulders in one fast move, then he breaks the kiss to bite Shiro’s neck.

Shiro hisses, but he doesn’t pull away, and when Keith wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist and pulls him closer Shiro grinds his hips against Keith’s without hesitation. Keith gasps, unprepared to feel Shiro’s erection brush against his own.

Keith breathes in the scent of Shiro, his mouth watering at it, even if it’s not as intoxicating as —

Keith moves his hands from Shiro’s shoulders to his hair and kisses him again.

Shiro moans into Keith’s mouth, and when Keith cants his hips up, pulling Shiro closer with his legs and tail around his waist, Shiro hisses and grips Keith’s hair tightly — too tightly.

Just like Keith likes it.

He wants more. He wants to be possessed, like Zarkon always possesses him. But Zarkon is not there, so Shiro will have to do it for him. Keith growls and pushes a hand between their bodies, and undoes Shiro’s fly.

Shiro curses when Keith pushes his hand in his pants and takes his cock in his hand.

Keith leans up to kiss and bite Shiro’s mouth, demanding and pleading at the same time.

Shiro makes a noise and tires to pull away, but Keith pulls him back with his free hand.

“Keith,” Shiro manages to get out between the kisses Keith presses against his mouth. Keith flattens his ears and growls in warning.

But Shiro shakes his head and pushes Keith away. “Keith — “

Keith uses all of his strength to flip them over so that he’s straddling Shiro’s hips, and he pushes Shiro to the ground, leaning down to sink his teeth into Shiro’s neck.

“Ow, fuck! Keith, stop.”

Shiro pushes Keith off of him, but before Keith can get angry at the turn of events, Shiro’s there, cupping his face, his eyes full of concern. “You’re crying.”

Keith blinks, confused. Then, hesitantly, he touches his fingers to his cheeks. They come back wet.

 _Oh_.

Shiro pushes Keith’s bangs from his face and presses a kiss on his forehead, then he pulls Keith into his arms, rocking him gently. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Keith shakes his head, unable to stop himself from crying.

“Baby, come on. Tell me what happened.” Shiro presses his forehead to Keith’s, so much like the Galra do, but it lacks the warmth Zarkon’s touch always brings and Keith can’t force himself to enjoy it as much as he should.

Keith draws in a wet, shaky breath. “I — I didn’t mean to leave him.”

Keith doesn’t have to clarify who he means.

Shiro only holds him tighter.

 

* * *

 

Keith lets Shiro take him to his room, and Shiro makes sure Keith is safely in bed and he’s calm and resting before leaving him there with a promise to return as soon as the situation with Allura is cleared.

“Anything?” Shiro asks when he reaches the bridge.

“No,” Hunk replies, worry clear in his eyes. “We can’t even reach Lance anymore.”

Ice runs down Shiro’s back. “What?”

“We lost contact with him five minutes ago, he was just about to go look through the settlement. He — he said Rejya was hurt and that she and Antok are waiting near the settlement for Lance to find Allura but.... we can’t reach him anymore.”

Shiro grits his teeth, considering the situation for a moment. “That Rebel agent on the planet? Call him to get Rejya and Antok out of there and ask him to check around for Lance and Allura, but if he can’t find them, I want him to bring Rejya and Antok here. Lance and Allura are our people; they’re our responsibility, not his.”

Hunk nods and gets to work while Shiro lets Coran know of the situation. Coran is understandably upset that Allura is missing, but he toughs it out and focuses on what’s the most critical thing — preparing to care for a Galra.

It takes twenty minutes for the Rebel to arrive, and Coran and Shiro are waiting for him in the hangar. Rejya insists she’s not severely injured, but Antok still picks her up and carries her to the medical bay, with Coran following them out of the hangar.

Once they’re gone, Shiro turn to the Rebel who is half hanging out of his small ship. It can’t fit more than two people comfortably, and it seems to be the kind of self-build patchwork ship that would usually make Hunk excited.

“Did you see Lance or Allura?”

The Rebel tilts his head, then shakes it. “No.”

Shiro sighs and runs his hand down his face.

“They’ll be fine,” the Rebel states, his voice strangely melodic even through the mask.

“I hope so.” Shiro sighs. The day is growing too long and he wants it to end so that he can go and lie in bed with Keith, and offer him the comfort he so clearly needs. Shiro could use some comfort himself, if he’s honest.

“I never caught your name,” Shiro says.

“I never gave it to you,” the Rebel agent replies.

Shiro frowns, but considering the state of the universe he can’t fault the man for being careful, even if he’s never met a person that wasn’t an enemy who refused to give their name.

Though who knows, maybe it’s a cultural thing.

The Rebel disappears into his ship and Shiro expects the doors to close behind him, but then he pokes his head out again. “He adores Keith, you know?”

“What?”

“Zarkon. He adores Keith,” the Rebel repeats.

Shiro frowns. “How would you know that?”

“I have eyes,” the Rebel says, something like laughter coming through despite the mask and scarves covering his face. “Zarkon wants Voltron, yes? He wants the Black Lion. He had your bayard so there’s clearly a history there. Yet he allowed Keith to not only talk back to him, but physically assault him and keep him from getting the Lion. Ergo, he adores Keith.”

Shiro supposes it makes sense, but he doesn’t think it means Zarkon adores Keith. He likes Keith, that Shiro can believe, but adore him? Shiro doubts it.

The Rebel tilts his head. “It’s good for Keith, but bad for you.”

“How come?”

“If you hurt him in any way, you’re going to have the ruler of the most powerful Empire history has ever seen coming after you. And trust me, getting an angry Galra after you — especially one with an army — is as close to a living nightmare you can get. They’re hunters — predators — and they don’t let their prey escape.”

With that, the Rebel disappears into his ship and closes its doors, and Shiro is left alone in the hangar.

Shiro leaves while the Rebel prepares his ship for take off and heads back to the bridge. They need to get back on that planet and find Allura and Lance. That’s far more important than pondering on the Rebel’s words.

 

* * *

 

Keith starts awake when his bed dips, and for a blessed second everything is alright and he’s back with Zarkon. Then reality crashes in on him and the world turns cold.

“I didn’t mean to wake you,” Shiro whispers. “I promised you tea, and I even brought cookies and mini sandwiches. But if you’re tired just go back to sleep.”

“Why’d you sit down if you didn’t want to wake me?” Keith mumbles.

Shiro responds by running his fingers through Keith’s hair. His too short hair.

Keith sighs and sits up. He supposes he could eat. He lets Shiro fix him a plate from the snacks he’d brought, and he accepts the tea Shiro hands him.

“You were gone longer than I expected,” Keith says.

Shiro groans and rubs his eyes. When he speaks, his voice is tired and too quiet. “Allura went missing, and Lance went to find her. Now we can’t find either of them or their Lions. We tried using the Castle’s tracking systems, but we haven’t been able to locate them yet.”

Keith stills. That’s not good. Paladins going missing is bad enough, but Lions? What if Zarkon got them?

“Pidge picked a trail going in the different direction than the Galra fleet,” Shiro says, as if he’s reading Keith’s mind. “We’re not sure if it’s Allura and Lance, but it’s the best lead we have. We already know they’re not on the planet anymore; we’ve spent hours checking it.”

“What’s so special about the trail Pidge picked up?” Keith asks before shoving one of the sandwiches into his mouth.

Shiro shifts, uncomfortable. “It’s a lot like the trail those ships that attacked us — the ones that drain quintessence — leave behind. We’re following it right now. We’re hoping to find Allura, Lance, and the Lions at the other end.”

“Let’s hope for the best,” Keith says.

They finish their tea in silence. Keith wants to ask if Shiro had called Tral already, but considering he’s had two missing teammates to worry about, it probably isn’t something he’s gotten around to yet. Maybe Keith should just take care of it himself.

Shiro takes the empty plates and cups away and Keith takes the opportunity to take a trip to the bathroom. They run into each other in the in the hallway, and on a whim, Keith invites Shiro back to his room.

“Just to sleep,” Keith says a little too fast. “I don’t want to be alone right now,” he adds more quietly.

Shiro smiles. “I was gonna ask if I could stay the night anyways.”

It eases Keith’s mind, and he lets Shiro take his hand as they walk back to Keith’s room. Shiro has to make a quick stop at his own room to get himself a t-shirt to sleep in, and Keith has to tell Shiro not to turn the lights off once they settle in bed, but things go rather well.

Keith fits against Shiro almost as well as he fits against Zarkon, and though he misses the warmth of the bond and the way Zarkon sometimes purrs softly in his sleep, listening to Shiro’s heartbeat and the way he doesn’t quite snore isn’t bad either.

Keith closes his eyes, and lets himself drift to sleep.

 

* * *

 

They search for Lance and Allura, but to no avail. When Antok and Rejya return to the Blade, they do so with a promise to tell Kolivan of what had happened and getting the Blade to help with the search.

Pidge contacts Matt and Sam, who promise to get the Rebellion in on the search as well.

A few days later one of the Rebellion’s leaders, Sallo, a severe looking woman with a scaly skin and feathers for hair, contacts the Castleship. “We have no new leads on your friends, but we have seen some unusual Galra activity,” she says.

“Go on,” Shiro prompts, sharing a look with Keith who has been going through the Blade’s latest report on the bridge.

“They... seem to be attacking each other. Small skirmishes in the edges of the Empire, nothing major yet, but I thought you might be interested in hearing about it.”

Shiro nods. “Thanks for letting us know, it’s definitely interesting. Oh, now that we’re talking, that operative of yours that was on the planet with us when Allura and Lance disappeared? Have you heard from him?”

Sallo remains quiet for a long moment. “Zoshtor?”

“What?”

“His name, Zoshtor. He’s... a peculiar character for sure; prefers to do his own thing rather than to work in a group so he doesn’t qualify as one of our agents, but he brings in good intel and supplies whenever he stops by, which is not quite as often as we’d like. He has been with us for decaphoebes so we know him, and if we need something from him, he’s always been reliable so we allow him to have his quirks.”

Keith frowns until Shiro disconnects the call, at which point Hunk, Pidge and Coran have joined them as well to hear what’s going on.

“What is it?” Shiro asks, turning to Keith.

“Zoshtor is kinda like a Galran homonym,” Keith replies without taking his eyes off the screen, waving his hand. “Thace made me study them to better my understanding of the Galran language. It means — “

“Loyal companion or royal swimmer, depending on how you write it, and the slight variations in the pronunciation,” Coran cuts in.

“Yeah.” Keith narrows his eyes at Coran, who offers Keith an unapologetic smile and a shrug. “It’s not a real name, at least not as far as I know.”

“So... maybe he’s a Galra,” Hunk says. “I mean, maybe all good Galra aren’t with the Blade? It would make sense, right? Or maybe it’s a homonym that can be used as a name?”

“Maybe, but it’s a weird homonym to pick as a name for a Galra. There are better ones out there,” Keith says, his attention already drifting back to the reports.

Shiro decides that the name of a rebel isn’t as important as missing Lions and Paladins.

“Anything on the reports?” He asks Keith, hoping against all odds that there’s something they can use in there.

“No. They haven’t been able to locate any trails similar to the one we followed, but they’ve confirmed that the Lions aren’t in the Empire’s possession. Apparently the Empire has been tracking some signatures similar to the ones we followed, but the Blade operatives in the Empire don’t think they would be much help. Well, there’s a line about the trails often vanishing near places with micro rift activity, but they think it might be just because the micro rifts distort warp trails and, well, pretty much everything. The druids can supposedly track them past the rifts, but they keep their research hidden so the Blade’s don’t know if they know where the ships go.” Keith looks up from the reports. “That’s all I’ve got.”

Shiro sighs, barely resisting the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Anyone have any ideas?”

“We’ve searched half the galaxy by now,” Hunk says quietly.

“Then we’ll search the rest of it, and the next one as well,” Coran declares, his voice unusually harsh.

No one argues, though they all know there’s not much they can do if they don’t even know where or what to look for. The universe is too big — even the galaxy is too big — for them to aimlessly search through.

Keith heads out of the bridge first, and Pidge and Hunk follow him shortly, Pidge muttering something about a project she has going on, Hunk making a vague statement about helping her.

Shiro turns to Coran, his heart clenching at the lost look in his eyes. “I’m sure wherever they are, Allura is safe. She can take care of herself, and Lance is with her.”

Coran nods, the movement jerky. “I know. I just... they should be here.”

“We’ll find them,” Shiro says, sure of himself.

Coran sighs. “I know. I think I’ll take another look at the charts.”

Shiro nods. “Let me know if you need help with that. I need to clear my head and think about this situation — try to come up with a new angle, maybe. But if you need me, just say so. I’ll be coming back in a bit anyways.”

Coran offers Shiro a joyless smile. “I can handle a star chart on my own.”

Shiro decides to trust Coran, mostly because he’s been on the bridge for hours now and he needs to do something to get rid of the restless energy building in him.

He goes to the kitchen to get a glass of water and a quick snack, then he heads to the training deck, half tempted to ask Keith or Hunk to spar with him, but he doesn’t want to bother either of them.

They’re all too tense, and they all need to do things at their own pace in that moment.

 

* * *

 

Keith is stretching his back when Shiro walks into the training deck, and they both stare at each other in stunned silence for a moment before Shiro clears his throat and Keith pushes himself off the floor.

“I was... I can come back later,” Shiro says.

Keith looks around the room, considering the situation for a moment. “I could use a sparring partner, and you did once offer to be one.”

Shiro smiles and nods, his shoulders relaxing. “Okay.”

Keith waits until Shiro’s done warming up before handing him a staff — different from the Galran ones, but not so much that Keith is uncomfortable with them — and takes a few steps back. “I’ll try to hold back,” Keith promises.

“Don’t,” Shiro says. “I could use a challenge.”

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “You think I’m gonna be a challenge?”

“You’ve always been a challenge, that’s one of the things I like about you,” Shiro replies so sincerely it gives Keith a stop, and his cheeks heat up.

Of course Shiro uses it as his opening to attack. Keith parries and dodges, and steps behind Shiro.

Shiro tries to strike Keith again, but Keith dodges and keeps himself behind Shiro’s back.

“Stop that,” Shiro says, but there’s laughter in his voice.

Keith dodges Shiro a few times just to be annoying before striking Shiro, who blocks his staff with his Galran arm, then aims his own staff at Keith’s side. Keith skips out of his way, and they circle each other. Keith’s tail flicks from side to side, his body alight with energy.

Shiro charges first, and Keith lets him get close before stepping aside and driving his staff into Shiro’s side. Shiro grunts, blocks Keith’s next strike, then puts more distance between them.

But Keith doesn’t let him get too far; he charges at Shiro, blocking Shiro’s staff and pouncing on him, toppling Shiro to the ground and pinning him to the floor with his knees digging into Shiro’s sides, his staff on Shiro’s throat. Keith pants, his ears drawn back, his tail betraying his excitement of his victory.

Shiro smiles as he yields to Keith. “That was new.”

Keith responds by digging his hand in Shiro’s hair, forcing him to tilt his head back, and biting his neck hard enough to break skin.

“Ow! Keith, stop.” Shiro shoves Keith away and sits up, rubbing the spot Keith bit. “What the hell?”

Keith doesn’t have an answer to him. Instead he scrambles to his feet and hurries out of the room despite Shiro calling after him.

Why had he done that?

Keith shakes his head. He understands, on some level, that it’s his Galran side coming out like it so often does with Zarkon, but that had been different. Keith never had such a need to dominate with Zarkon. Mark him as Keith’s, occasionally, show Zarkon he’s not powerless, definitely, but trying to show Zarkon Keith is the one who is in charge — that he’s the dominant party in their relationship? Keith snorts at the mere idea.

Both him and Zarkon know that when Keith takes charge, it’s because Zarkon allows it, not because Keith can tell Zarkon what to do. Keith likes it that way, if he’s honest. He like knowing Zarkon chooses to give Keith power.

Keith likes Zarkon being a bossy and dominant, because Keith knows that if he says no, Zarkon will listen. Zarkon may be bossy and dominant, but he doesn’t ignore what Keith says. He doesn’t hurt Keith, and Keith knows he can trust that.

And Shiro... Keith doesn’t want to assess his power over Shiro any more than he wants to assess his power over Zarkon. So why did he try?

Rather than going to his room, Keith heads to the nearest shower. He assumes that if Shiro is going to look for him, he’ll check Keith’s room first, and Keith has no intention of being there.

Keith strips his clothes and leaves them lying on the floor before stepping in the shower and turning the water on the hottest setting he can handle.

It’s not long before the door opens and Shiro steps in. Keith pretends he doesn’t notice, hoping that Shiro will leave when he sees Keith is in the shower.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” Shiro says, his voice muffled by the thin glass wall and the water pouring over Keith’s head. “I’m sorry.”

Not feeling like talking yet, Keith continues to ignore Shiro. He expects Shiro to leave, but instead, after a minute, he steps into the shower with Keith.

“Damn, you keep the water hot.” Shiro hops on the tiled floor, laughter in his eyes.

Keith stares at Shiro with wide eyes, unable to do anything else. Shiro reaches over Keith, ignoring his dismayed state as he turns the water heat down just a bit.

“Can you hand me the shampoo?” Shiro asks.

Keith reaches behind himself and gives the bottle to Shiro, still staring at him in stunned silence.

Shiro washes his hair before turning to Keith again. “I really didn’t mean to upset you. I get that the biting is a Galra thing, and I respect that. I’m not upset, I just didn’t expect to get bitten. Just warn me next time, okay? And try not to scar me, I’ve got enough of those already.”

Keith’s eyes flicker down — not too low, though — to the scars covering Shiro’s body, and he swallows around the lump in his throat. He shouldn’t have bitten Shiro.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Shiro cups Keith’s face, smiling at him. “It’s okay.”

“I didn’t mean to bite you,” Keith says quietly. “I acted on instinct — I’m not even the type to do that kind of biting.”

Shiro lifts an eyebrow. “There’s different kinds of biting?”

Keith laughs, relaxing a little. “Zarkon... he bites me like I bit you. I like it, I like being on the receiving end of that — “ Keith’s cheeks heat up, and it’s not because of the water “— when I bite Zarkon, it’s different. It’s more like... I don’t know. Marking my territory? That sounds bad but — “

“It doesn’t.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “To Zarkon, it’s as much about dominance as making sure everyone knows I’m his.”

“You’re not a possession,” Shiro says.

Keith shakes his head. “It’s not like that. It’s not about me being a possession, even if Zarkon is possessive. I wouldn’t like it if he treated me like a thing. It’s about... I don’t really know. It’s” — Keith motions at his head, not knowing how to explain how it makes him feel when Zarkon tells Keith he’s Zarkon’s, how the bond grows so heated Keith can’t help but respond to it by agreeing that yes, he is Zarkon’s, and he’s happy with it.

“It’s what?” Shiro asks.

“I don’t know. It’s a feeling, I guess. I just like it.” Keith bites his lip, not daring to meet Shiro’s eyes. “I’ve always liked it, but ever since Haggar made me properly Galra, I’ve liked it... more. Differently, I suppose.”

“There’s nothing wrong with that,” Shiro says, then steps closer to Keith to get the soap from the shelf. Keith breathes in the familiar scent of Shiro, closing his eyes and letting it comfort him.

Keith watches Shiro soap himself, studying the way his muscles move under his skin.

Keith sighs. Now that he’s not worried about Zarkon dying from Allura’s attack and he doesn’t feel like he’s been forced to stay in the Castleship, he can finally admit he does want Shiro. He’s known it before, of course, but now... he’s not sure why he was so hesitant. Because of how Zarkon would react? Because a relationship between the three of them might not work?

It probably won’t, if Keith is honest with himself; Shiro might be willing to accept Zarkon as part of Keith’s life until he learns about the bond and what it means to the three of them, and Zarkon... well, Zarkon hates Shiro. He might have said he doesn’t mind Keith being with Shiro, but Keith knows Zarkon, and he knows that wasn’t the truth. They would have to do a lot of work to make things work between the three of them, but Keith thinks he’d like to try.

“You’re the first person I ever loved,” Keith says softly, the water almost drowning his voice out.

If Shiro didn’t drop the soap in his hand, Keith might even think Shiro didn’t hear him.

They stare at each other in silence, then Shiro smiles and — after picking the soap up — steps closer to Keith. “Can I kiss you?”

Keith smiles and nods.

Shiro puts the soap away and kisses Keith, long and sweet and oh so soft. Keith enjoys it for a while, but soon he’s deepening the kiss, making it more heated, more forceful.

And Shiro gives Keith what he wants. Keith moans, letting Shiro take control.

When Shiro pulls away to breathe, Keith nuzzles his face, nibbling his jawline every now and again.

“Keith.” Shiro buries his hand in Keith’s too short hair. “Tell me what you need.”

“Push me against the wall,” Keith replies without thinking.

It gives Shiro a pause, but he does as Keith asks. Except he’s too gentle, like Keith is porcelain and Shiro has to keep him from breaking.

So Keith shakes his head and steps away from the wall again. “No, Shiro. I’m not gonna break. I need you to not treat me like I’m gonna break.” He steps away from the wall. “Now _push_ me.”

Shiro frowns, but after thinking it over, he does push Keith against the wall with more force. Keith gasps, his tail wrapping around Shiro’s leg, pulling him closer.

And Shiro steps closer. He crowds Keith against the wall, studying Keith’s face for a few long, loaded seconds before kissing him again, his hands in Keith’s hair, pulling and tugging, moving Keith’s head until Keith is in a position Shiro wants him to be in.

Keith keens, throws his arms around Shiro’s shoulders, and wraps a leg and his tail around Shiro’s waist, pulling him closer. Shiro’s erection rubs against Keith’s, and Shiro groans into the kiss.

When Shiro breaks the kiss, Keith drops to his knees and takes Shiro’s cock in his mouth. Keith closes his eyes, moaning at the taste filling his mouth, barely registering the bang that can only be Shiro driving his prosthetic fist into the wall.

Keith thanks his Galran genes and the times he’d spent blowing Zarkon for lessening his gag reflex when he takes all of Shiro in. He stays there, swallowing around Shiro’s length in his mouth, allowing himself a second to get used to it.

“Fuck, Keith.” Shiro rubs Keith’s ear gently, and Keith purrs in return, though he doubts Shiro hears it.

Keith pulls back, then — looking up into Shiro’s eyes — swallows Shiro down again.

Shiro lets out a noise that might be a curse, might be just a series of noises that sound like a word, Keith doesn’t care. He sucks Shiro off, wanting to show Shiro just how good he can be, wanting to —

the bond jerks, and Keith chokes before pulling away from Shiro.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks, cupping Keith’s face, concern clear in his voice.

Keith nods absently even as he tries to recover from the abrupt shift in the bond — like Zarkon had tried to yank it out of Keith’s head. Zarkon pulls at the bond again, and Keith slams his shields down tighter. Zarkon isn’t going to ruin this for him, not after all the crap he’s put Keith through. Not after he said Keith could have Shiro if he wanted.

“Are you sure?” Shiro asks.

“Yeah.” Keith smiles, forcing himself to relax, then stands. “I’m fine.”

Keith kisses Shiro’s cheek. “Wait here.”

After Shiro nods, Keith steps out of the shower and rummages through the vanity cabinets until he finds what he’s looking for, then he returns to Shiro. When Keith hands the bottle in his hands to him, Shiro frowns. “You sure?”

Keith nods and turns the water to a lower pressure. “Yeah. I want you.” Keith laughs and glances away, brushing water from his face. “I’ve wanted you for a long time.”

Shiro glances at the bottle again, then at Keith. “We don’t have protection or anything, and this isn’t really meant for — “

“I don’t care, I can take it. Unless you don’t want to, which is fine,” Keith says.

Shiro laughs. “Oh, I want to. I just don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t,” Keith assures him and turns around, leaning his arms against the wall. “Trust me.”

And Shiro does. He kisses Keith’s shoulder before popping the lid off the bottle. Moments later the cool oil drips on Keith’s lower back. He shivers as the water falling on them mixes with the oil, washing it away before Shiro pours more oil on him and positions himself in a way that keeps the water from washing the oil away again.

After a few long agonizing seconds, Shiro’s spreading Keith’s cheeks and rubbing the oil on Keith’s hole. Keith sighs and wills his tail to stay out of the way. When Shiro pushes one tentative finger inside Keith, Keith rocks back into it, wanting more. More of Shiro; more force; more faster harder, whatever it takes to get Shiro inside him sooner.

Whatever it takes to get Zarkon to stop clawing at the bond in a frustrated attempt to get Keith to stop and walk away from Shiro.

As Shiro pushes a second finger in, Keith makes soft, encouraging noises, even going so far as to throwing a pleading look over his shoulder when Shiro doesn’t move fast enough. “Shiro, please.”

Shiro grits his teeth and shakes his head. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, I can take it. I want to feel you,” Keith replies.

Shiro curses under his breath and pushes a third finger in, and presses a kiss on Keith’s neck. Keith groans and pushes back against Shiro’s fingers, barely resisting the urge to tell him to work faster. Shiro rubs Keith’s lower back, going for soothing but only making Keith more frustrated.

“Shiro!”

“Alright,” Shiro laughs and leans up to press another kiss on Keith’s shoulder as he pulls his fingers out.

Keith endures the sense of emptiness while Shiro oils himself up and lines himself with Keith’s hole. “Are you — “

“Yes, I’m sure,” Keith snaps, then looks over his shoulder with an apologetic look. “Please, just... I need you.”

It’s all Shiro needs, and he holds on to Keith’s hips as he pushes in. Keith sighs, but when Shiro doesn’t move fast enough his ears flatten, and he ignores Shiro’s hands resting on his hips as he slams himself on Shiro's cock.

Keith gasps, but not because of the fullness: Zarkon’s trying to rip the bond out of Keith’s mind again and Keith’s eyes burn, but if he sheds a tear the water washes it away. The bond quiets down within seconds, then it turns... hollow.

It takes Keith a few extra seconds to adjust to the change, his focus slowly turning back to Shiro. Without the bond bothering him, Keith thinks he can feel Shiro more clearly, and he clings to that rather than the emptiness in his mind.

“Are you okay?” Shiro asks.

Keith nods. “Yes. Please, move.”

And Shiro does, gently rocking into Keith.

Keith puts up with it for less than a minute before he demands Shiro move faster, harder — anything to give Keith _more_. And Shiro gives Keith what he wants.

Keith doesn’t bother being quiet, but it doesn’t take long for Shiro to clamp his Galran arm over Keith’s mouth. Keith bites down on the metal, moaning against it, enjoying the smooth surface of it on his tongue.

It’s better than Keith imagined.

It’s not enough.

Keith’s mind is painfully empty and he doesn’t know what to do about it.

Shiro presses kisses on Keith’s shoulder and neck, and worries the tip of Keith’s ear with his teeth until Keith keens. “Touch yourself,” he says — orders, really — and Keith does as he’s told.

It doesn’t take long for Shiro’s movements to get erratic, and Keith’s tail wraps around his waist to keep him close — to keep him from pulling away. Keith lets out an urgent noise and pushes back into Shiro’s thrusts until Shiro curses and presses his face in Keith’s neck, and comes inside Keith.

Keith sighs as Shiro rocks into him through his own orgasm. Keith is still hard, but his focus is on Shiro, on him coming down from the high of his orgasm, pressing his mouth to Keith’s neck and shoulders, not quite kissing him.

After a moment the shower being still on registers in Keith’s mind, and he smiles against Shiro’s hand still resting against his mouth. At least they won’t have to worry about cleaning up.

When Shiro pulls away, Keith turns around and pulls him right back in. “Good?”

Shiro laughs and nods before kissing Keith, still out of breath. “You’re amazing.”

Keith grins into the kiss, lazily rocking against Shiro’s hip.

“Do you want me to — “

“Just stay still, that’s enough,” Keith cuts in, focusing on the heat slowly pooling in the pit of his stomach. Keith closes his eyes when Shiro presses a kiss to his neck, then lets out an annoyed noise when Shiro disappears.

But Keith’s annoyance turns to pleasure when Shiro takes him into his mouth. Keith lets his head fall back against the wall and focuses on the wet heat of Shiro’s mouth on his dick, the way he teases Keith with his tongue.

Without thinking, Keith grabs the back of Shiro’s neck, holding him still as his orgasm hits him.

Shiro chokes and yanks back, starting Keith out of what he’s doing. “Sorry! I’m — I wasn’t thinking, I’m sorry.”

Shiro laughs as he wipes his chin with the back of his hand. “It’s fine. Just warn me next time, okay?”

Keith bites his lip. Shiro pushes himself off the floor and kisses Keith softly before grabbing the soap from the shelf. “I’ll wash your back?”

Keith nods, his body still thrumming softly from the orgasm, and Shiro starts rubbing soap into his skin, his touch easing the tension of his muscles.

If only Shiro could do something about the emptiness in Keith’s mind as well.

 

* * *

 

Shiro pulls on pants just as Keith enters the room with a tray of snacks and drinks.

“Coran said something about Pidge having a new program and that they’ll install it in a few hours,” Keith says. “He’d like you to be there when they try it.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” Shiro says and sits at the floor, leaning on the bed. Keith joins him, and Shiro puts an arm around his shoulders, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Keith touches Shiro’s arm, a frown appearing on his face. “I didn’t mean to scratch you.”

Shiro glances at his arm. “It’s fine. Just... don’t make a habit of it, okay?”

“Might be hard with these.” Keith wiggles his claws. “But I’ll try.”

“Is it... is it a Galra thing? The scratching?”

“I think it’s a having claws thing.”

Shiro laughs. Maybe it’s true and he should just get used to being scratched, though Shiro can imagine wearing the Paladin armor is going to be uncomfortable.

They eat in silence for a moment, and Shiro tries not to ask the question burning in his mind.

“What is it?” Keith asks, giving Shiro a knowing look.

“It’s just — you don’t have to answer, but... what happened with you and Zarkon?”

Keith looks away, his ears drawing back.

“It’s just that, you were really upset after we left that planet,” Shiro continues. “You — you cut your hair. You _loved_ your hair.”

“Zarkon loved it,” Keith says quietly.

Shiro shifts, studying Keith’s forlorn expression for a moment. “What happened?”

Keith hangs his head, shaking it minutely. “We just had a fight.”

“You said you didn’t mean to leave him,” Shiro points out.

“I —” Keith draws in a ragged breath, then laughs, but the sound is too hollow. “I don’t know if Zarkon — I worded some things badly. He... we argued about if he should get the Lion, and I told him no, and he said I had no right to get in his way and he implied that the Lion mattered more than I did, and... I snapped, kinda. I don’t know why I did it. I’m over that stuff, you know? I don’t care about what happened when the Galra caught me so why did I bring it all up?”

Shiro considers his words, not wanting to say the wrong thing. “Maybe it still bothers you?”

“Why would it bother me? I already thought that stuff through and I know my relationship is with the Zarkon that didn’t… it’s with the real him.” Keith taps his claws against his glass, a thoughtful look on his face. Shiro doesn’t rush him. “I love him, okay? I do, and it’s _real_ and I know the shit at the beginning is the past. So I had no reason to bring it up.”

Shiro bites the inside of his cheek, worried he might be about to do the wrong thing, but still needing to do it. “Could you tell me what happened? When you first got to the Galra?”

“I don’t want you to hate Zarkon more,” Keith says.

Shiro stops and thinks, wanting to be sure of what he’s about to say. “I won’t hate him more. I... I get that relationships can change, and you two have gone from enemies to... well, whatever it is you two are. I get that. And I’ve seen what he’s like with you; I know he cares about you in some way, and to me that’s... it doesn’t justify what he’s done, but I’m willing to take the present into consideration when it comes to his relationship with you.”

Keith is silent for a long moment, studying the lime green juice swirling in his glass. “He never hurt me physically; nor did he order anyone else to hurt me, okay? He _never_ hurt me.” Keith sighs. “When I got there, Zarkon put me in a cell — makes sense so it’s not a problem to me and he had Haggar look over me to make sure I was healthy and all — and I stayed there unless he wanted to see me. He gave me food when we talked, but he made me eat it with my fingers at first; he said it was because I might stab him with a fork, but I think it was just him trying to humiliate me.”

Shiro nods, not wanting to say anything.

“There was this time he took me to a rec room, and there was a couch and I fell asleep on it, and when Zarkon told me to get back to my cell I asked him if I could stay. I’d done everything he wanted up to that point so I thought — he said no and when I tried to ask again he locked me in the cell and left me there for... I don’t know how long. By the time I saw him again I just knew I’d never want to experience that again. So I did what he told me to do from that point on.” Keith laughs. “I think that’s when he figured that leaving me alone in a cell is the best punishment. And he let me train with Marzila as a reward for doing what he wanted me to do — and Haala was there too, obviously.”

“I think isolation works on everyone,” Shiro says.

“Not you,” Keith replies. “You put up with it.”

Shiro shakes his head. “No, I didn’t. It got to the point I’d rather go to the Arena than be in the cell on the worst days.”

Keith meets Shiro’s eyes briefly, sympathy and understanding clear in them. “He gave me a room near his quarters when he put me to work. It wasn’t anything big, but it was something. I got to be around people and I had my own space that wasn’t a cell, so I thought everything was going well. Then one day he left the Central Command with Haggar, and I tried to run. I got caught and beaten up, and when I woke up I was in so much pain I could barely move and I couldn’t see anything, and... I don’t know how long I was there. He left me there, even when he knew — _he knew —_ what that cell did to me. That’s the worst thing, on hindsight. He knew what I was going through and he still left me there.”

Shiro isn’t sure what Keith means, but he doesn’t voice it. He lets Keith take a moment to gulp down his juice, noting the way his hands tremble minutely.

“When he took me out of the cell I was... not in a good place. I couldn’t see — I’d been in dark for too long so Haggar had to keep me blind while she worked on a solution to fix my eyesight — but Zarkon gave me a cushion in the corner of his quarters. He put these bracelets on me, and I was blind and naked and he ordered me to the cushion, and if I tried to leave it without his permission I’d get this horrible shock. He left me there for hours at a time. When he let me move from my cushion, I had to crawl on the floor. He had me sit at his feet while he worked or ate, and he’d feed me himself. And he’d pet my hair and my brain got so foggy... I liked it; I liked the attention he gave me because at least I wasn’t in the cell, and I did everything I could to not make him put me there again.” Keith swallows. “I... when Zarkon allowed me to have my eyesight back I tried to stand and — it’s the only time he got physical with me — he pushed me to the ground and I thought he was gonna snap my spine or something so that I couldn’t ever walk again, and he said that if I couldn’t follow rules when I wasn’t blind he’d gouge my eyes out. So I stayed on the floor.”

Shiro takes Keith’s hand, rubbing his palm comfortingly.

“After a while Zarkon started to take me out of the room and I got to wear clothes and sit at his feet or just stand around while he ran the Empire. One time he ordered me to kill a commander that got mouthy and I did it because... I don’t know. It was me or him, I suppose. Zarkon gave me a dagger, and I killed someone, and when everyone else left I thought I could kill Zarkon too, and he had me hold the dagger to his throat and told me exactly how far I’d get if I killed him and I... didn’t. It wasn’t because I thought I couldn’t take the torture, I just... I couldn’t kill him.” Keith turns to Shiro. “What does that make me?”

“A good person,” Shiro says without hesitation. “Taking a life is never easy, especially someone’s you’ve gotten to know.”

Keith sighs, looking away. “I guess. We tried to learn — he sparred with me, occasionally. He taught me new things and how to accept my more Galran traits and how to be more at ease with myself.”

“And that’s great,” Shiro says. “That’s really good for you, even if I might’ve gotten across as not accepting you being Galra — and I’m really sorry if I did — you being comfortable with who you are is important, and how you got to that point shouldn’t matter.”

Keith smiles. “Thanks.”

Shiro nods. “What happened next?”

Keith’s smile fades. “You attacked the Central Command.”

Shiro grits his teeth. He remembers that well, he remembers the frustration and worry and anger he’d felt when he’d realized Keith hadn’t been there.

“I think Jadri told Zarkon you were coming — which means someone in the Blade or the Rebellion is working with the people Allura was meeting when she disappeared. We should — “

“We can deal with that later, okay? Unless you want to stop talking.”

Keith bites his lip, but after a moment he settles back down. “Zarkon took me away. He asked if I’d want to see a nebula — it was basically a date. We had fun, Marzi came with us... I started sleeping in Zarkon’s bed rather than on a cushion. I didn’t have to crawl on the floor anymore. Things were pretty good. But then Haggar showed up and Zarkon said that he had to find you guys, that he had to get Voltron because everyone was pissed that you destroyed the Central Command and... I... he would’ve had to basically kill me so... I just thought; which is more important; me or you, so... I kissed him because he’d been sort of flirting with me before, and I thought that if I convinced him that it’s a mutual thing, he’d keep me around and you’d be safe.”

Shiro states at Keith in stunned silence while Keith draws in a shaky breath, his gaze glued to his toes. “I just wanted to protect you, so I convinced Zarkon I wanted him —” Keith chuckles “— you should’ve seen his face; I didn’t know what kissing meant to the Galra yet, and I just grabbed him and kissed him. He was so stunned. But it worked; he kept me around. And then I had to keep convincing him I wanted him, even if we agreed to take things slow. I screwed up once. He... figured out I didn’t like what we were doing and he dropped me, literally, to the ground and he didn’t talk to me for a while. He even kicked me out of the bed.”

Shiro shifts, stifling the questions bubbling in him.

“Eventually... I don’t know. I was tired and I wanted him, even if I didn’t want to want him, and then Vazka came along and — “ Keith waves at himself, and Shiro understands what he’s trying to say “ — I couldn’t even _walk_ because my legs were wrong and I had a tail and everything was just... I couldn’t deal with it and Zarkon dropped me on the floor and told me to stop whining and get moving, and I was so _angry_ I almost clawed his eye out, and I yelled at him, but I did start walking after that. And... well, Zarkon... I stopped pretending I didn’t want him, and things got better. He took me to some kind of royal dinner and I got to wear a tiara, even.”

Shiro frowns. “Um, I’m glad things got better for you, but... don’t you think it’s, well... how would killing you help him find Voltron?”

Keith’s ears flatten and he looks away. “It’s complicated.”

“Keith.”

“It’s not... I...” Keith raises his shoulders to his flattened ears and looks away.

“Keith.” Shiro swallows, then steels himself for what his words will most likely cause, especially when Keith frowns. “Killing you would not have helped him in any way. I’m glad you’re alive, and that you got to be happy, but that... that wasn’t okay. Are you sure he wasn’t hoping you’d do something like that? Maybe — “

“We’re telepathically bonded,” Keith snaps. The silence that follows his words is deafening.

After a solid minute of loaded silence, Keith sighs, his shoulders slumping. “When I piloted Black to save you — I don’t know how, but Black got me tangled in her bond with Zarkon, so when Zarkon tried to track Black, he kept finding me. And he keeps finding me, so if he’d gotten rid of me — he said he’d just take the bond out but that would’ve left me brain damaged at least — he could’ve tracked Black and find you, and then he would’ve killed you.”

Shiro stares at Keith, unable to say anything.

Keith shrugs. “I wanted to stay with him, not just because I love him, but because me being here means he knows where Voltron is and he can find you and hunt you all down and kill you.”

“You’re... can you... talk with him? Telepathically?”

Keith shakes his head. “We never got around figuring words out, but we got really good at impressions and emotions. Like if he was in a meeting and he got bored, he’d give me a sort of commentary on how boring the meeting was and how stupid everyone around him is. He’s actually really fun when he drops the Emperor front.”

“And... this bond is... can’t we just break it?”

Keith meets Shiro’s eyes. “If you want to kill Zarkon, just kill me, he’s gonna die too. You can’t break the bond without killing us both.”

All color drains from Shiro’s face. “Why didn’t you tell me this before? I could have had Lance shoot Zarkon when he showed up on that planet! I could’ve killed you!”

Keith smiles sardonically. “You almost did already, when you showed up to take me from him. If you hadn’t tried to force me to leave, I wouldn’t have panicked, then Zarkon wouldn’t have turned his back on Allura to find me, and she couldn’t have hurt him and I wouldn’t have nearly died because the bond got damaged.”

Shiro feels sick.

“Those headaches I had? That was me almost dying because of what you guys did to Zarkon. He got better after I told Lotor to tell Haggar about what was going on and she fixed the situation, but... yeah. You did almost kill me already. I didn’t want to worry you so I didn’t tell you.”

“You didn’t want to worry me? Keith, this isn’t the kind of stuff you keep from me, not when it affects you to that extent! I need to know this stuff so that I don’t accidentally kill you or something.”

Keith looks away. “I didn’t want to lose you.”

The anger Shiro feels drains away. “You won’t lose me. Why would you think you’d lose me over this?”

Keith laughs, shaking his head. “We can’t turn it off, it’s not... Zarkon hates that you touched me. He’s never tried to rip the bond out of my head before.”

Shiro blinks, then Keith’s words sink into his mind and he stands, pacing the room. “Keith, you will never lose me.”

“But?”

“But you really should’ve told me about this _before_ we had sex. There’s a big difference between us having a relationship while you have one with Zarkon as well, and you having some telepathic link with him that’s gonna be there all the time, even when we’re being intimate.”

Keith flinches. “He’s not in my head now. He... he’s mad — more so than before which is something — so he put a wall up between us, so we can’t feel each other right now.”

“That doesn’t help,” Shiro says. “I love you, and I want to be with you, but I don’t want Zarkon as a third party in everything we do, not like this. I — “ Shiro pinches the bridge of his nose as he tries to process the situation. He looks at Keith, not surprised that he’s drawn his knees up to his chin.

“I’m sorry,” Keith mutters.

Shiro sighs and drops on the floor next to Keith, and pulls Keith into his arms. Keith clings to him. “I just... I knew you’d be mad and I didn’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t lose me. No matter what happens, you’ll never lose me,” Shiro promises. “We’ll figure this out.”

Keith sniffles. “And I’m sorry I was so horrible to you when I got back, and then while we were on Haggar’s ship.”

Shiro smiles mirthlessly. “I’m sorry for insisting you were brainwashed.”

“Forgiven?” Keith looks up, his eyes too bright.

Shiro nods. “Forgiven.” Keith had been in a bad place, Shiro had known it before, and now he knows just how bad it must have been, thinking he was going to die because of something his friends had done.

Keith rests his head on Shiro’s chest, clinging to him.

“We’ll have to talk about this later,” Shiro says.

Keith nods. Shiro presses a kiss on Keith’s head, his mind still reeling from what he’s just learned.

 

* * *

 

Thace is not sure how long he’s been in the cell. His body has healed from the torture Haggar put him through, and the quiet has given him a chance to think things through and come to terms with what happened.

He only wishes he had a better understanding of time — and maybe a book. The loneliness is undoubtedly the worst part of his imprisonment, as the Galra are not meant to be alone.

And Thace has been alone for too long.

When the door to his cell opens, Thace can barely believe it. His disbelief only grows when Zarkon steps into the cell, giving the space a displeased look. The guards close the door, locking Zarkon in with Thace.

“You look better,” Thace says quietly when the silence gets to be too much.

“I have use for you,” Zarkon says, ignoring Thace’s comment.

Thace sits straighter, partly on instinct, mostly out of curiosity. “I’m not ready to betray the Blade,” he still tells Zarkon, just in case he’s hoping to use Thace to get to the others.

Zarkon waves him off. “Your little group does not interest me.“ Thace does not believe that. “You are close to Keith, correct? You said you swore your life to him.”

Thace does his best not to let his confusion show on his face as he inclines his head. “Yes.”

Zarkon tilts his head minutely. “I want you to protect Keith.”

Thace blinks, then pushes himself to his feet, careful to keep himself hunched — rather easy in his current condition — and small. It’s better if Zarkon does not think Thace is attempting to challenge his authority. “And I would gladly do so, but if I may ask, why me? Surely there are more capable people you could have protect him — Marzila, for example.”

“I chose you,” Zarkon replies. After a tick, he lets out a heavy breath and glances down. “Keith is not with us at this moment, and I need someone who will blend in with the... people he is with.”

That can only mean Keith is with Voltron. Why Zarkon does not simply retrieve him is something Thace can’t figure out, and he doesn’t dare to ask.

And he wants out of the cell.

So Thace bows his head. “I would be most happy to keep Keith safe.”

“Then we have an agreement,” Zarkon says.

Yes, Thace suppose they do. Though he doubts it is quite as simple as it seems.

He keeps his doubts to himself when Zarkon guides him out of the cell. He takes the shower he’s ordered to take, he sits still as the druids examine him to make sure he is well, and he puts on the civilian clothes he is offered.

Thace accepts the scout ship he is given — an older model, but still in perfect working condition — and after promising Zarkon again that he’ll protect Keith, he has to with the tracking device the druids embedded into him, he flies out, free, but not truly so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If I have time to finish another chapter next week, you'll get a chapter next weekend. If not then early the week after that. We'll see how things go.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	30. Chapter 30

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And we're to the last stretch of this fic. Less than ten chapters to go, mere weeks until this is completed, finally or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it.

Shiro and the others continue to search for Allura and Lance, and though Pidge’s new program is helpful in mapping the strange warp trails they have been following, they have little luck finding the one that leads them to Allura and Lance. They get some help from the Blade when Tral comes to fix Keith’s hair — an ordeal if there ever was one, as Tral spends good ten minutes chiding Keith for how badly he’d cut his hair and another ten convincing Keith that yes, he needs to shorten it even more— but they make no real headway.

It’s been two weeks already, and Shiro tries his hardest not to think back to the time Keith was gone. Two weeks of them not being able to form Voltron.

Two weeks of their team not being whole.

It has been two weeks, so when Kolivan contacts the Castleship Shiro expects it to be because he’s located Lance and Allura.

“Thace has contacted us. He has left the Empire.”

It’s the last thing Shiro expected to hear. “Is… is he okay?”

“He is fine, but he insists he come stay with you,” Kolivan replies. “He has refused to even set foot in our base.”

Shiro thinks back to how Keith had reacted the last time he’d been in the same space with Thace — he’d tried to kill Thace, after all — but eventually Shiro allows Thace to come to the Castleship; they could use all the help they can get, and there has to be a reason Thace wants to be there rather than with the Blade.

Telling Keith about Thace’s arrival isn’t something Shiro looks forward to, so he delegates that to Coran. It’s not until Coran returns to Shiro, looking contemplative, that Shiro remembers the damned bond Keith shares with Zarkon. If Thace has escaped, would that mean Zarkon knows Thace is coming there now?

They haven’t approached the topic of how Zarkon discovered Thace was a member of the Blade, but this might be the perfect opportunity to do that. So when he has the first free moment of the day, he goes off to find Keith.

Keith is listening to a book in his own room, but he smiles when Shiro enters and drops the headphones, and sits up. “Hi.”

Instead of going to Keith like he usually does, Shiro stays at the doorway. “I need to ask you something.”

Keith’s smile falls. “Okay?”

“How did Zarkon know Thace is with the Blade of Marmora, and can he find Thace here?”

Keith’s expression darkens and he looks away. “I told him kinda by accident when you were kidnapping me. I let him know Thace was trying to take me and he put things together. And yeah, if Thace comes here, Zarkon will know about it, but... I don’t know.”

“Maybe Thace shouldn’t come here, then,” Shiro says.

“Let’s see what he wants first, okay?”

“Won’t Zarkon — “

“We can’t communicate verbally, and he’s ignoring me anyways.” Keith bites his lip. “I don’t think he’d notice if Thace came here right now.”

Shiro nods. “Okay. Let’s hear what Thace has to say, then.” He doesn’t address Keith’s gloominess over Zarkon ignoring him. Shiro’s not sure what he could even say about that.

“I’ll let you know when Thace is here, okay?”

“Sure,” Keith replies.

Finally, Shiro takes a moment to approach Keith and press a kiss to his temple. “Food?”

Keith nods and lets Shiro take his hand as they walk out of Keith’s room and into the kitchen. After the pleasant late lunch, Shiro heads back to the bridge to see if they have any updates on Allura and Lance while Keith returns to his book.

The grim look on Coran’s face tells Shiro all he needs to know.

 

* * *

 

Keith is there when Thace arrives. Seeing him in civilian clothing rather than armor is odd, but seeing Thace so gaunt — too thin, his eyes too haunted — hurts.

“Did you escape?” Pidge asks the second they are done with their greetings.

To everyone’s surprise, Thace shakes his head. “I would like to talk to Keith.”

It’s not satisfying to anyone, but Thace insists, refusing to tell the others what is going on until he’s had a moment alone with Keith. So Keith takes Thace to the lounge and sits him down on the couch, and takes a seat facing him.

“So.” Keith spreads his arms. “What is it?”

“Did you, by any chance, tell Zarkon of my loyalties?” Thace asks.

Keith flinches, but inclines hi head. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think it through and I was angry. Not that it’s an excuse”

Thace regards Keith with a severe expression for a moment, but then he sighs, his shoulders slumping. “I suppose that is understandable. I would rather we move past this than hold grudges, so I’m willing to accept an apology if you do something for me.”

Keith’s ears perk up. “What?”

“Call Haala and tell him I would like to talk to him when he’s ready for it, and that I didn’t escape.”

Keith inclines his head, then frowns. “I can do that. I think... I’m not sure I got Haala’s comm number.”

“I have it, as well as Marzila’s. I’m sure they’d love to hear from you,” Thace replies.

“Can I ask why you’re here?” Keith asks.

Thace sighs, leaning his elbows on his knees. “The Emperor — Zarkon — requested that I protect you. He thought I would fit in here better than Marzila or another Empire member, and as I told him, I did swear my life to you.”

Keith blinks. “Zarkon asked you to protect me?”

“Yes.”

“When?”

Thace tilts his head. “A week ago. It took me some time to get checked by the druids as they felt that it was important to make sure I’m healthy, and arrange for the ship and clothes, as well as some materials I felt I could request from the Emperor.”

A week ago was after Keith and Shiro took their shower together. Zarkon asked Thace to protect him even after that? Why?

“What materials?” Keith asks, clearing his throat.

Thace smiles. “You have a language to learn, do you not? I thought it would be good for us to build trust up again by starting with that.”

Keith groans, but it does make him feel a little better. “I still have your blade if you want it back,” he says, his ears drooping a little. “I didn’t use it or anything. I wasn’t sure if that would’ve been okay.”

Thace waves him off. “Keep it. It is a symbol of my ties to you, it needs to stay with you. And you can use it, if you want. Just don’t lose it.”

Keith smiles and nods. “Okay. I think you should tell the others you’re here under... not orders, but at Zarkon’s request. They’re worried about safety with the Galra and this new enemy around.”

“I’ll do that right away. I just wanted to talk to you privately first, so that you know the situation.” Thace stands and bows slightly. “Can you find the time for our first lesson? I would like to start as soon as possible. I could use something to do — a sense of normalcy, if you will. As you know, the cells are not a pleasant place to be in.”

Keith stands as well. “I can find us a good space while you tell the others what’s going on. I don’t... contribute much to what they’re doing at the moment.”

Thace studies Keith, but after a moment he inclines his head and doesn’t comment on it.

 

* * *

 

Keith calls Haala that evening, and the surprise on his face is worth it alone. Marzila pokes her face to the frame as well, grinning brightly at Keith and calling him out on leaving so abruptly.

“Thace is here,” Keith says and Haala’s face darkens immediately. “He’s here because Zarkon asked him to protect me — “

“I could’ve done that,” Marzila points out.

“ _—_ and he thought you’d be more inclined to listen if I was the one to ask you to talk to him when you’re ready,” Keith finishes, then turns to Marzila. “He told Zarkon you could do the job better, but Zarkon thought Thace would have an easier time fitting in with the Paladins.”

Marzila makes a face.

“How are you?” Haala asks. “There’s a rumor going on that there’s fractions breaking off and... how bad is it from your perspective?”

Keith sighs. He’s heard the same rumors — Tral and Rejya keep him informed on everything — but he’s not sure of the situation. He tells Marzila and Haala as much.

“Can’t you ask the Emperor?” Marzila asks.

Keith looks away, his ears flattening.

“What happened?” Haala’s voice is as demanding as it is concerned.

“We had a fight,” Keith admits. “We haven’t talked since. He’s... ignoring me to put it nicely.”

“Even with the... thing?” Marzila glances at Haala who eyes them both suspiciously. “Should we tell him?”

“Zarkon and I are telepathically bonded, it sucks at the moment,” Keith says, not seeing a point in hiding it from Haala. He’s not sure why he hasn’t told him about it sooner. Perhaps he assumed Marzila would.

“Do I want to know details? How did that happen? The Witch?” Haala demands.

“The Black Lion, actually,” Keith says, then sighs. “How about I let you know if I hear anything new? And you can keep me informed of what’s going on in there.”

“That will work,” Marzila agrees.

“And Haala, Thace does want to talk to you,” Keith says.

Haala’s ears flatten. “He can want to talk to me as much as he likes, I don’t want to talk to him; not after what he’s done.”

Keith knows he can’t force Haala into talking to Thace, but at least he’s delivered the message. They talk about what they’ve been up to — Keith doesn’t bring his relationship with Shiro up though — for a little while longer, until Haala and Marzila have to go.

Afterwards, Keith goes to tell Thace that his message has been delivered, and just because he feels bad about telling Haggar about his loyalties, Keith stays with Thace and tells him about what’s going on with Haala at that moment.

 

* * *

 

Thace keeps Keith busy, so Shiro doesn’t feel quite so bad for spending most of his time looking for Allura and Lance; especially since there was not much for Keith to do, save for staring at monitors. Hunk, Pidge and Shiro go out in their Lions and Coran takes care of the scans and communication with everyone else, and they all know how to work with each other. Keith — despite what Shiro wants to admit — tends to get in the way and slow them down, or at least throw their usually seamless work off.

So yes, Shiro is happy to have Thace there to keep Keith busy, and he refuses to feel guilty about it.

“Anything?” Shiro asks Pidge, who has just finished her newest scan.

“No.” Pidge sighs, rubbing her eyes. “And I’m out of ideas.”

It’s not what Shiro wants to hear, but it’s not Pidge’s fault, so he keeps it to himself. She’s just tired. They’re all tired.

“Do you need a few hours off?” Shiro asks, and Pidge shakes her head. “No, seriously, you won’t be any help to anyone if you don’t rest.”

Pidge pouts, but soon she sighs. “I guess I could use a few hours to unwind.”

Shiro smiles at her and nods. “Do that. And get Hunk to take a break with you, okay? I don’t think he’s slept in two days.”

Pidge nods. “I’ll do that. And you should take a break as well. Go spend time with Keith, maybe.”

Shiro frowns, crossing his arms. A second later he thinks better of it and uncrosses them. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing.” Pidge spares Shiro a knowing look. “You just seem to be spending all your free time with him lately, that’s all.”

Shiro doesn’t dignify it with an answer. There’s no reason for him to answer. There’s nothing wrong with his relationship with Keith.

Keith and Shiro had, after a long conversation, decided to keep their under wraps for now, but that was mostly because of the situation they’re in, and because they’re still trying to figure their boundaries out And Shiro wants to know more about the bond before he’s comfortable with how things are.

Shiro spares the latest scan results a look before starting the scan yet again, knowing the results won’t be any different, but needing it running in the background so that they all feel like they’re doing something.

He calls the Rebellion for a status update, but they have nothing new to tell him — except that Sam has adjusted well to his life among them.

Next Shiro calls Kolivan, who does have news for him, but not of Lance and Allura.

“According to our sources, Zarkon has barely been seen since the incident in the Galra settlement,” Kolivan informs Shiro. “What is worse, after that day, the Empire has fractured.”

Shiro frowns. “But we know Zarkon is alive and well; Thace saw him. As for the Empire, we haven’t noticed a difference, though that could be because they haven’t been our focus recently.”

“The Emperor is merely missing in action, which is worrying in itself, of course, especially considering the Empire’s state; ten thousand years and he has never left the Empire or allowed it to get even near to a state like this. The Empire has not broken, but there are clear fractures; commanders fighting each other, groups leaving the ranks and either forming their own factions or joining the existing ones — including Zykov’s. Yes, for the most part, the Empire is still whole, but I’m not confident that will last for long if things continue as they are,” Kolivan explains.

Shiro knows how bad the Empire falling apart right now would be; Voltron isn’t there to keep the Galra from tearing the universe apart when they start running rampant. “Keep me updated on that situation?”

Kolivan inclines his head. “And you’ll let us know if we can do anything to help; we will need Voltron soon.”

“I will,” Shiro promises and ends the call.

Shiro sighs before going off to find Keith to let him know of the situation, and he finds him in the kitchen. Keith is understandably concerned over the situation, but he has a solution to getting news directly from the Empire, and not through Kolivan.

“I’ll just call Haala and Marzila, and ask them. Or Haggar; I’ve got her comm number. Or Lotor.”

Shiro stares at Keith, trying to figure out when he managed to form such a social circle, but if it will help, Shiro isn’t going to complain. “Who do you think would be the easiest to get information from?”

Keith considers it for a moment. “Lotor. He might be harder to get in touch with, but he’s most likely to have actual, accurate information. Haala and Marzi know what’s going on among the middle levels, so that might be useful too. Haggar probably can’t be reached if Zarkon’s gone MIA; she goes where he goes, and if Zarkon doesn’t want to be found, she won’t be found either.”

“Then get in touch with Lotor, Haala and Marzila. Let me know when you have something on them, okay?”

“Okay.” Keith stands from his chair. “Thace and I have a lesson in... half an hour, so I’ll send them all a quick message and start calling them later when I have more time.”

It’s good enough for Shiro, and he pulls Keith to him by his sleeve and kisses him. Keith kisses him back with more teeth than Shiro is used to, but he likes it in a way; it’s different but it’s not bad.

And it’s Keith.

Keith pulls away first, but there’s a soft smile on his lips and he stays near Shiro. “See you later?”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees and presses a quick kiss to the corner of Keith’s mouth before hurrying back to work.

 

* * *

 

Thace checks Keith’s spelling, his critical expression telling Keith all he needs to know. It’s familiar and if it wasn’t for the too white walls around them, Keith could almost believe they’re back on Cenzi’s ship, and none of the bad things have happened yet.

“Can I ask you something?”

Thace turns his eyes from the pad to Keith. “Of course.”

“What does _ichkya_ mean?” Keith doesn’t quite meet Thace’s eyes, pretending to focus on the pad in front of him instead.

“Why do you ask?” Thace asks, curious.

Keith shrugs. “I’ve been listening to a book and it was a word I didn’t understand.”

Thace is quiet for a moment, then he sighs. “ _Ickya_ was the brightest star of Daibazaal’s sky. It means… crudely translated guiding star or more rarely, precious light of the night. Both mean the same thing, in the end.”

Keith frowns at the table, not sure what to do with the information. Why would Zarkon...

“I haven’t heard it used before,” Keith says, perhaps a little quieter than he intended.

“It has a special meaning to us, so we do not use it often — you must truly mean it if you say it.”

It does nothing to ease Keith’s mind.

“It is not something like _ashaya_ you can throw around with less consideration. The emotion behind the words is different, and as with all of our words, you must consider the meaning and weight behind them,” Thace continues.

“You’d think soulmate was rarer than star,” Keith points out.

Thace shakes his head. “Your soulmate is a person who you match up perfectly with, be it your friend or lover. You do not need them to exist, but both of you are better together. _Ichkya_ is... they are your beacon in the darkness when you are alone and astray; they show you the path when you have lost it. They are your guiding star in the night. _Ichkya_ is your other half in a way no one else can be; you might be better with your soulmate, but you risk remaining stagnant with them, as there is no need for either one of you to change; _ichkya_ is person makes you strive to be better, to grow — to become the best you you can possibly be, and then go further.”

Keith stares at the pad before him without seeing it. “What if” — he coughs to hide the weakness of his voice — “what if that person and you had a horrible fight?” He finishes, his voice stronger.

Thace frowns. “Why would —“

“I’m trying to predict the book I’m reading,” Keith explains haphazardly.

Thace eyes Keith for a moment, then sighs. “You are Galra, you should be able to imagine how that would feel.”

Keith bites his lip. He _can_ imagine how it would feel, that’s the problem; he can imagine just how much it would hurt, how earth shattering it could be. If Keith were to regard someone as that important of a person… he would be devastated if something like what happened between him and Zarkon would happen to him and this imaginary person. He doesn’t know what he would do.

And then Keith had gone and had sex with Shiro despite Zarkon making it clear he didn’t like it. Of course he didn’t like it. Keith could understand it before if he considered Zarkon’s possessiveness, but now...

“Can we get back to the declined quality of your spelling?” Thace asks. “As beneficial as this topic is, it’s not what we are studying today. We can make it the subject for tomorrow if you’re interested in the nuance and variations in pet names.”

Keith inclines his head, unable to speak in that moment.

Later, after Thace has told Keith exactly how bad his spelling has gotten and what he has to do to better it again, Keith wanders around the ship thinking of what Thace had told him.

Some guiding light he is, leaving Zarkon standing in a battlefield riddled with the corpses of his own people because they both got angry.

After a minute Keith stops in a quiet corner and groans. He wants to reach out to Zarkon and apologize, but he doesn’t know how. Could he even get past the barrier Zarkon has raised between them?

Keith runs his hand through his hair, still weirded out by the feel of it. Tral had let him keep his bangs long enough that if he wants, he can sort of tie them up, but because of how Keith had chopped his hair up, Tral had cut the back and the left side shorter — short enough for the back of Keith’s neck to show. It’s not something Keith is used to, and he’s still on the fence of whether or not he likes it, but Tral had assured him that his hair will grow back soon, and this way Keith needs to only worry about trimming his bangs, and he can (hopefully) do it on his own.

Keith grits his teeth and continues on his way. He has homework to do and people to contact.

 

* * *

 

Shiro isn’t sure how he feels about Keith delegating talking to Lotor to him of all people, but there he is, sitting at his desk since Coran and Pidge are talking to Matt on the bridge, being scrutinized by Lotor.

“I am not telling you anything about the inner workings of the Empire,” Lotor states.

Shiro had expected it, so he lets it go. “I’m just wondering if it’s something we should be worried about; the Empire affects a lot of people.”

“You have Voltron,” Lotor points out. “You’re hardly in a position where you need to worry about things like that.”

Shiro sighs, remembering Keith telling him to be open and honest with Lotor, that he needs to approach Lotor as a potential ally, not an enemy. “We can’t form Voltron at the moment,” Shiro admits, then considers his next words carefully. “The people attacking both us and you? The ones that drain ships of quintessence? We think one of us got kidnapped by them.”

Lotor tilts his head minutely. “You seem to be in a habit of misplacing your teammates.”

Shiro grits his teeth and counts to ten as he takes a calming breath. “Yes, it would seem so.”

“You should work on it,” Lotor says, and Shiro isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be an insult or genuine advice.

He still smiles and nods tersely. “We’re trying.”

Lotor inclines his head. “I have little knowledge on the enemy you speak of; most of the knowledge on them is limited to Father, Haggar and her most trusted druids. I am not sure how I’m supposed to help you.”

“We’ve been tracking the ship’s warp trails to micro rifts — “

“We have been doing that for decaphoebes,” Lotor cuts in.

Shiro clenches his hand to a fist under the table, where Lotor can’t see it. “We were hoping you’d have a way to track them past that point.”

Lotor considers it, and Shiro lets him.

“I know we have devised a way to compensate for the rift disturbance, but I do not have the research of that with me here.” Lotor frowns. “I am willing to consider giving some of it to you at a later quarter.”

“What do you want in return?” Shiro asks, knowing there’s no way Lotor is offering the research for him for free.

“A favor,” Lotor replies.

“What kind of a favor?”

Lotor smiles. “I have not decided yet.”

Shiro frowns, unsure why Lotor would want a favor from him if he hasn’t even decided what kind of a favor he wants. His confusion must show on his face since Lotor’s smile turns amused.

“Do you know what a favor from the leader of Voltron is worth?”

 _Oh._ Shiro laughs quietly and shakes his head. “I guess a lot.”

Lotor inclines his head, still smiling that genuinely amused smile that somehow makes him... it suits him, in Shiro’s opinion. Even if there’s a foreignness to it, like the expression is not something Lotor is used to making.

“I will have the information sent to you if I deem it something I can hand you after going over it, and I will expect the favor when I decide what I need from you,” Lotor says.

“Okay. Thank you,” Shiro replies.

A deal with Lotor when Shiro doesn’t even know what the price of it will be is most likely the stupidest thing he has done in a while, but if it will help him get Allura and Lance back, he’ll pay the price gladly.

They end the call, and Shiro settles in to wait for Lotor to hold his end of their deal.

As he’d hoped, Shiro receives a message from Lotor three hours later, and Shiro forwards it all to Pidge immediately. Pidge replies in a matter of minutes, promising to have results for Shiro by the end of the day. Shiro knows she’s exaggerating, but her enthusiasm is still good thing to see.

Shiro showers, eats, and gets some sleep while he waits for Pidge to be done, so when he gets called to the bridge the next afternoon, he has more energy than he’s had in a few days.

“Did it work?” He asks as he steps through the doors.

Pidge nods, her expression hopeful. “I think so.”

Coran and Hunk look nervous and excited as well. It gives Shiro hope that they’ll succeed in finding their friends this time around.

They try Pidge’s improved program, all of them holding their breath. Keith and Thace join them, and Shiro spares them a brief, hopeful smile.

The tension in the room is almost unbearable as Pidge runs the new scan. They’d come to a micro rift with a warp trail disappearing near it for this reason alone, and Shiro isn’t sure what they’ll do if this doesn’t work.

The scan finishes, and to Shiro’s disappointment, the trail still ends at the rift. “It didn’t work?”

“It worked,” Pidge says. “The trail goes _into_ the rift.”

“What?” Shiro hurries over to Pidge to get a proper look at the results, and sure enough, the trail does go into the rift, not past it.

“How are we supposed to follow them there?” Hunk asks, and Shiro has no answer to him.

 

* * *

 

Keith and Thace agree to lessen their lessons in order to help the others figure out a way to help the others find Lance, Allura, and the Lions.

Keith also contacts Marzila and Haala to ask them about what’s going on in the Empire again — since Lotor had made it clear to both Keith and Shiro that he wasn’t willing to talk about it — and while they can’t really tell Keith anything about the situation, they do tell Keith that the atmosphere is tense, and that people are worried of what will happen to them if the Empire splinters.

Keith relays the news to Shiro, and sends a second message to Haggar asking her to call him when she has the time. Considering his first message has gone unnoticed he doubts he’ll get a reply, but he has to try.

“Anything new?” Keith asks Shiro when they meet for dinner that evening.

Shiro sighs and hangs his head, moving the soup in his bowl around. “No. We’ve thought about flying the Lions into the rift, but Coran says we’d have to tear it wider, and that’s incredibly dangerous; then we’d have to try to navigate through the rift to wherever the ship go and —” Shiro sighs again, heavier this time. “We can’t do it. The rift is too dangerous.”

“I could,” Keith starts, the swallows, thinking it over again before continuing. “I could try to get Zarkon to listen to me and ask him what to do. He’s got a lot of experience with the rift.”

Shiro frowns, lifting his eyes from the soup to Keith. “He’s still not, um, whatever is it you two do?”

“He’s not paying attention to me,” Keith says. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about it. I’m not going to apologize for doing something he said I could do, that’s for sure.”

Shiro hums and shoves a spoonful of soup into his mouth. Keith studies the way his brow draws into a frown. Keith knows Shiro doesn’t like the bond, that it makes him uncomfortable, but it’s a part of Keith and though he tries to not bring it up too much around Shiro until he’s ready to talk about it, it is a part of Keith and he’s not going to pretend it’s not.

“We could — “

The alarm ringing silences Shiro, and he sits up straighter. So does Keith.

“Everyone, come to the bridge!” Coran calls over the comms.

Keith and Shiro share a look, then hurry from their chairs and out of the kitchen. They rush to the bridge where Coran is already with Thace. Pidge and Hunk appear only seconds after them, both out of breath and demanding to know what happened.

Coran looks stunned as he turns to them. “I think I found the Blue Lion.”

It sends everyone to a frenzy to get to their stations — Keith takes Lance’s place while Thace helps Coran the best he can — and they set their course to where the Blue Lion hopefully is at top speed.

Coran calls for the Lion — for Allura — every step of the way.

After what seems like an eternity, the comm line crackles and a broken reply they can’t make sense of comes through — but it’s clearly Allura’s voice.

The relief on Coran’s face is obvious, and he takes a moment to close his eyes, hanging his head. Then he takes a deep breath and stands straight again. “Allura, we’re coming to you.”

The line crackles again, but they still can’t make out any words. Keith tells himself it’s because of the distance.

As they near the Blue Lion, the hairs on Keith’s neck stand on edge, and his ears twitch back. “I’m gonna go to the hangar.”

Shiro gives Keith a look when he stands, but Keith ignores it. “You don’t need anyone shooting and Allura might be hurt, or Lance might be onboard injured, and someone should be there to welcome them here.”

After a moment, Shiro nods. “We’ll be there in a moment as well.”

Keith hurries to the hangar, and the wait for the Blue Lion to arrive is nerve wrecking and too long. Keith paces, though he’s not sure why. He’s not comfortable, but it’s not because of Allura’s arrival. He wants Allura back, he’s happy about her return, but there’s something in the air that makes him twitchy.

He’s ready to start running around just to get rid of the anxiousness by the time the Blue Lion arrives, looking more than a little banged up, but flying fine, though there’s something strange about the sense Keith gets from the Lion

Keith takes several steps back, then stops, scolding himself for thinking there’s something off with the Lion. It’s just the look of the Lion; the scratches and scorches on it must make it look... off.

While Keith tries to puzzle his feelings out, Allura exits the Lion. She spots Keith and runs to him, laughing and so happy Keith forgets all about his internal conflict. Allura throws her arms around Keith’s shoulders, and though it gives Keith a pause — a long one — he pats Allura’s back, wondering what’s going on.

Allura pulls away, grinning at Keith. “I’m so happy you’re still here! I want you to meet my father.”

Keith’s eyes widen. “Your... your _father_?”

Allura steps aside, and Keith’s jaw drops.

No.

No way.

This is not happening. This _cannot_ be happening. There, behind Allura, is Alfor, smiling with practiced politeness as he studies Keith.

Alfor bridges the distance between them, his eyes boring into Keith’s, and Keith wants to run. It’s not just because he has no idea what to do or what’s going on; the urge comes from deep within him, from the same place that had called him to find the Blue Lion. It terrifies Keith, but he stays still, staring at Alfor with wide, eyes, shock quickly drowning out all other emotions.

“You must be Keith,” Alfor says, his tone perfectly polite, not a note of anything that could be constructed as negative to be heard. “Allura has told me all about you.”

“R-really?” Keith glances at Allura, who only grins brightly, giving Keith an encouraging nod.

“Yes, I was curious of her new friends, and with what happened to you...” Alfor tilts his head. “It’s a tragedy, but one we can surely leave in the past.”

When Alfor offers his hand to Keith, Keith doesn’t take it. Instead he crosses his arms, his ears flattening against his will. Alfor’s smile gains a sharp edge, just for a second, then it’s gone — along with the flicker of something like gold in his eyes. He drops his hand, nodding minutely, but he doesn’t look offended at all.

Before Allura can call Keith out on his behavior, the others arrive. The silence that falls when they see Alfor is deafening. Keith glances at them, at the shock on his friends’ faces, the way Hunk has to support Coran so that he doesn’t fall to the ground.

And Alfor is still staring at Keith.

“It’s a pleasure,” Alfor says, then turns to address the others, “to meet you all. And to be home again. I hope we can all work together to achieve a common goal.”

Coran looks close to tears and Allura moves to him, hugging him tightly for a long moment before taking his hands in hers. Alfor steps away from Keith and towards Coran, and Allura is quick to guide him to Alfor.

“Where’s Lance?” Hunk asks, his concern clear in his voice despite the flummoxed look on his face.

“He is well, but we thought it best to not stress him by having him come through the rift again quite so soon,” Alfor replies.

“The rift?” Coran looks at Alfor, then at Allura, his joy making way to concern.

Alfor touches his shoulder. “It is nothing to be worried about. We have a way to travel through the quintessence field safely, but as your Lance came through it in... a less than ideal way, we thought it best to let him rest it off before he travels through it again. Our method might be safe, but it is only safe if you follow certain precautions, so Lance has to wait a few days longer before joining us.”

Everyone breathes a sigh of relief at that.

Thace makes his way to Keith and pulls Keith a few steps back. It’s odd enough to get Keith to look over his shoulder at Thace, but Thace merely shakes his head.

Keith only turns his attention back to Alfor when he starts talking.

“For the past years, I, along with our new allies, Trigel, and Gyrgan — yes, they are quite well" — Alfor smiles at Coran who sighs in relief — "have perfected ways of combating the Galra, but progress has been slow, as we have not been able to send more than one or two of our ships through. Allura tells me you have unfortunately been mistaken as enemies. I apologize for that; our pilots are from another reality, and we did not expect Voltron to be around so we didn’t think to explain to them that should they run into you, you are our allies. They must have thought you are in league with the Galra.”

Keith doesn’t buy it, but the others seem to be eating up Alfor’s every word.

“We still have some issues communicating through the rifts, but we have devised a method for communicating that constitutes of small teams on this side of the rift sending us general updates once a week and individuals bringing more comprehensive reports with them when they return to us, sometimes mere days after they have left, sometimes a month later. We did not get word of you being here until after my people had, unfortunately, mistaken you for enemies.” Alfor looks genuinely apologetic.

“Well, everyone makes mistakes, right?” Shiro glances around, his voice uncertain.

Something like disapproval flashes in Alfor’s eyes, but he doesn’t voice whatever though passes his mind. “I’m sure we’ll be working together well from now on,” he says instead.

Shiro nods.

Alfor returns his attention back to Keith. “You could —“

“What about Blaytz?”

Alfor’s smile falls. “Excuse me?”

“Blaytz. You said: you, Trigel, and Gyrgan, but not Blaytz. Where is he?” Keith tries not to step back as Alfor’s eyes bore into him.

“I am afraid Blaytz was lost some time ago; the rift affects everyone differently, and with him... he could not handle it.”

Keith doesn’t know what to believe, but if Blaytz is not there, and since even Zarkon has said the rift affects everyone differently... perhaps it makes sense.

Alfor turns to the others. “But as sad as the loss of a dear friend is, I would much rather focus on making new ones today. Tomorrow I would like to introduce you to my people, and together we can start forming a plan to take on the Galra — together.”

Everyone nods and smiles, excited and happy to get more help and have Alfor there.

But though Keith smiles as well, he can’t help the dread creeping down his spine, and he can’t ignore the urge to _run_ burning deep within him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm legitimately curious as to how many of you guessed what was gonna happen. I did drop the first hint at this twist in Shelter From a Cold Storm, though I've tried to keep the hints to minimal...
> 
> Also for those wondering, Keith's hair is basically an angled, asymmetrical bob cut.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this later but I got dragged back to my computer by... not good things, so I decided to take this opportunity to post this now so that I can use 'later' for other things.

Getting used to having Alfor around is a process for everyone, but it is also cause for joy — especially for Allura and Coran. Shiro is happy the two of them have Alfor back, and when they get introduced to Gyrgan and Trigel — after they and Lance come through the rift — everyone’s joy is only elevated, even if Trigel and Gyrgan bring the people in white armors and masked helmets with them.

Everyone except Keith, that is.

Shiro assumes it’s because of Keith’s ties to the Galra and Zarkon specifically; he just can’t get excited about more people wanting to bring the Empire down.

It wouldn’t be something Shiro would pay attention to beyond assuring Keith he understands where he’s coming to but... Lance seems to be more than a little thoughtful when it comes to the situation as well.

“I don’t know,” Lance sighs when Shiro asks him about it. “There was just something about that other reality that felt off. I can’t explain it Maybe it was just molecules being out of sync or something, you know; reality differences. It just felt off.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to make of it, but as much as he wants Allura to be happy and everything to be fine, he’s learned that what he thinks things are like is not always the truth, so he keeps Lance’s doubts in his mind, as well as Keith’s hesitancy to be near the original Paladins — Alfor specifically.

Shiro hopes it’s just Keith being hesitant near people who oppose Zarkon, and Lance dealing with the effects of the rift, as Trigel had explained to them that — just as had happened to Zarkon — paranoia is a typical side effect of coming into contact with the rift.

 

* * *

Shiro sighs and strips to his t-shirt and underwear before joining Keith on the bed. Keith makes room for Shiro, but he keeps reading from his pad rather than giving his attention to Shiro. Not that Shiro minds; he knows that if he waits a few minutes, Keith will be done with whatever he’s reading and he’ll put the pad away.

As Shiro expected, five minutes later Keith puts the pad away and drapes himself across Shiro’s chest, his tail swaying lazily from side to side.

“What did you do today?” Shiro asks as he runs his fingers down the back of Keith’s neck.

Keith hums and presses his forehead against Shiro’s chest. “Thace is on overdrive with the teaching. He doesn’t let me make a single mistake anymore.”

Shiro laughs, earning himself a pout from Keith. “It’s like I’m back in high school, but worse!”

Shiro only laughs harder. “Aren’t you the one who wanted to learn a new language?”

Keith groans and flops back down against Shiro’s chest. “Yeah, but too much is too much.”

Shiro pets Keith’s head, amused by the way Keith’s tail smacks against the bed in annoyance. Shiro lets his mind drift as he drags his knuckles along Keith’s spine, up and down, without thinking.

Keith shifts, then kisses Shiro’s jawline. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.”

Shiro closes his eyes for a few seconds. “Keith, we talked about this.”

Keith huffs and sits up. “He’s not here, okay?”

Shiro sits up as well. “You’re telepathically linked to him; he’s always here.”

Keith’s ears flatten. “He’s ignoring me, remember?”

Yes, Shiro does remember. How could he forget when it keeps upsetting Keith every day?

“I just... I’m not comfortable with the bond being there when...“ Shiro trails off as Keith looks away.

“I get that,” Keith says after a while. “And I wouldn’t ask if Zarkon was here” — Keith waves at his head — “but he’s not here. He’s not — I don’t know how to explain it or convince you we’re alone. Zarkon put up a wall between us and we can’t reach each other at the moment. That’s the only reason I’m asking.”

Shiro bites his lip. He wants Keith, he does; bond or no bond, but... “would you tell me if he was there?”

“Yes,” Keith replies without hesitation. “I wouldn’t do that to you; I know you don’t want Zarkon there when we have sex and I’d never disrespect that.”

It eases Shiro’s mind, and if Zarkon isn’t there... well, they could try.

“Okay.”

Keith’s ears perk up immediately and he bridges the distance between them, but when he kisses Shiro it’s soft and gentle. “You sure?”

Shiro nods, relaxing now that Keith is in his arms. “Yeah. Just let me know if he comes back.”

“I will,” Keith promises.

Keith pushes Shiro down on the bed and climbs on top of him, kissing Shiro more heatedly. Shiro return the kiss in kind.

Shiro unfastens the buckles on Keith’s shirt and pushes it off his shoulders, and Keith pulls Shiro up so that he can yank Shiro’s shirt off as well. Rather than pushing Shiro back down, Keith pulls Shiro on top of himself. Keith likes having Shiro pin him down; almost every time things get heated between them, Keith pushes Shiro to take charge.

So Shiro gives Keith what he wants and pushes him down on the bed, and pins him there with his weight. Keith moans as he wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist and his tail still feels foreign wraps around Shiro’s thigh.

Shiro ignores it and buries his hands in Keith’s hair instead.

They make quick work of getting their remaining clothes off, and soon Keith is pushing Shiro off so that he can scramble off the bed to grab the bottle of oil from Shiro’s desk drawer. He joins Shiro seconds later, pushing the bottle into his hand and kissing him hungrily. Shiro gives back in kind as he presses Keith back against the bed, then kisses his way down Keith’s chest.

“Hurry up,” Keith grumbles, and Shiro looks up.

“Patience — “

“If you say yields focus I’m going to claw you up.” Keith gives Shiro a warning look, his ears drawing down.

Shiro laughs and shakes his head. “I was gonna say it’s gonna make things better for you. We can take things slow, you know?”

“But I don’t want slow,” Keith replies, pouting.

“How about we compromise and go at a reasonable pace?” Shiro suggests.

After a moment of considering it, Keith nods and lets Shiro get back to mapping his skin with his mouth.

Shiro memorizes the taste of Keith on his lips, the way he sighs softly when Shiro sucks a mark on his collar bone and the way Keith shivers when Shiro runs his fingers down his stomach. The way Keith gasps when Shiro teases his nipple with his tongue, and the way he arches his back when Shiro pinches the other.

Shiro memorizes the way the scar on Keith’s stomach feels against his hands, and the way Keith’s muscles tremble under his touch.

Shiro memorizes it all, because he doesn’t know if he’ll have this again.

When Zarkon stops being mad at Keith and comes back he’ll be there, in Keith’s mind, and he won’t be leaving just because Shiro wants it.

Or when Alfor will succeed in —

Shiro pushes the thought away before it can form and bites Keith’s hip gently before taking Keith’s dick in his mouth, sucking him off lazily as he pours the oil on his hand.

Keith spreads his legs, his tail wrapping around Shiro’s arm when Shiro pushes a finger into him.

“Shiro please,” Keith pleads, and Shiro forgets he wanted to take things slow.

He does a quick job at preparing Keith thoroughly, not wanting to cause Keith any pain no matter how fast they’re going. As soon as Keith starts grumbling and kicking Shiro’s sides gently, Shiro pulls his fingers free and sits up. He applies a little more oil than strictly necessary on himself while Keith wraps his legs around Shiro’s waist.

Shiro takes a second to breathe, to watch Keith spread out before him, flustered and so perfect.

When Shiro enters Keith, Keith arches his back and moans loudly. Shiro closes his eyes and draws in a slow breath, and gives himself a few seconds to adjust to the unnatural heat of Keith’s body. Shiro loves it, even if it feels like too much.

“You can move,” Keith laughs, snapping Shiro out of his head.

Shiro opens his eyes, studying Keith’s face — the way he bites his lip, the blush on his cheeks, the trust and warmth in his eyes — and nods.

Keith nudges Shiro’s side, and Shiro takes a hold of Keith’s legs, arranging them around his waist before pulling out and pushing back in slower than Keith would like. Shiro laughs quietly, continuing to rock into Keith in that slow pace that makes Keith frustrated so easily. Just as Shiro expected, Keith curses under his breath and buries his hands in his own hair.

Shiro keeps the slow pace up until Keith lets out a frustrated noise, biting his lip to keep whatever it is he wants to say from escaping his lips. Shiro leans down to press a kiss on the corner of Keith’s mouth before picking up the pace, earning himself a relieved sigh from Keith.

When Shiro tries to pull away, Keith throws his arms around his shoulders and pulls him back down, his claws digging into Shiro’s back almost painfully. So Shiro kisses Keith again, taking a hold of his face to keep him still, to anchor himself.

Shiro loses himself in Keith — the heat of his body, the taste of him, the way he bites Shiro’s lip, how his claws dig into Shiro’s shoulders, how his heels dig into Shiro’s thighs, the small of his back his ass — and lets Keith push him to go faster, harder whatever Keith wants.

The kiss turns sloppy, but Shiro doesn’t care; he’s happy to listen to the noises Keith makes.

Shiro’s orgasm starts building too soon,and he slows down his thrusts, wanting the moment to last longer — to have Keith a little longer.

“Let go,” Keith whispers into Shiro’s ear, his breath hitching when Shiro thrusts into him harder. “Please.”

How is Shiro supposed to say no to Keith?

Keith nips Shiro’s jaw. “Shiro, please.”

Shiro gives Keith what he asks for; he fucks into him harder, chasing his own orgasm as Keith reaches between their bodies and takes himself in his hand. Then Keith leans up and bites Shiro’s neck, not hard enough to break skin but hard enough to be felt.

“Fuck, Keith!”

Keith growls in reply.

Shiro comes first, and Keith follows him moments later. Afterwards they just lay there, panting, entwined in each others arms.

Keith regains his composure before Shiro, and he pets Shiro’s hair while Shiro recovers from his orgasm.

“You okay?” Keith asks.

“Yeah,” Shiro mutters. “You’re amazing.”

Keith laughs. “I know.”

Shiro wraps his arms around Keith and holds him tight. They should clean up; he’s getting uncomfortably sticky and Keith can’t be off much better, but he isn’t ready to let go of Keith just yet.

He’ll just hold Keith for a few more minutes.

 

* * *

Thace isn’t comfortable near Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan, but he explains it away as uneasiness around strangers. Keith isn’t sure if he’s entirely honest, but he has no reason to lie to Keith either.

“They came through the rift,” Thace says. “It makes me uncomfortable.”

“You and me both,” Keith mutters and focuses on the pad with his latest lesson before him.

They continue to keep to themselves, making excuses of Thace wanting to teach Keith more now that the situation has calmed down and they have Lance, Allura and the Lions back.

It’s a nice enough of a routine, and with Shiro sneaking to sleep in Keith’s bed or Keith in Shiro’s on most nights, Keith’s anxiety about having people that should be dead in the Castleship lessens just a bit.

Still, Keith would feel better if he could contact Zarkon, be it through the comms or the bond.

“Focus,” Thace orders, and Keith tries, he really does, but his mind keeps drifting back to Alfor being alive.

How could that be? Zarkon had said they died, he’d seen it. No, that’s not right; Zarkon had seen the shuttle hit a rift and disappear, so maybe the shuttle got dragged into the rift?

_ “ _ Keith.”

Keith sighs. “I don’t think I can focus today.”

“It’s alright,” Thace says. “We should finish early in any case; Kolivan and the others should be here soon.”

Keith inclines his head and helps Thace pack their study material, and takes it all to his room. Thace walks with Keith, he always does these days. Keith hates to admit it makes him feel safer.

They get a late lunch before heading to the lounge where they’re supposed to meet Kolivan and the Blades he’s bringing with him.

Kolivan is happy to see Allura is well, and Allura greets him with more warmth than Keith expected, but she’s been happy lately so Keith isn’t entirely surprised by it. Kolivan greets Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan with nothing but respect, and he receives a similar greeting in return from all three.

Allura guides Kolivan to sit while Tral, Antok, and the third Blade Keith doesn’t recognize stand on the sidelines. Thace stays by Keith’s side where he’s become more or less a permanent fixture.

They settle in to compare notes on the happenings in the universe, and things are fine until Kolivan — politely — questions how Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan ended up in the other universe.

Shiro and the other Paladins sit up, and even Keith’s ears perk up; they have yet to hear how Alfor and the others ended up in the other reality, they have just heard of their efforts to come up with ways to combat the Galra — as Alfor had known that Zarkon would grow stronger and someone would had to stop him.

“Probably doesn’t help your people turned against you,” Keith injects when Gyrgan explains how the Galra had cornered them and they had been overpowered, defeated, and captured.

The silence that follows is deafening, but Keith had expected it. What he hadn’t expected was the angry looks Alfor, Gyrgan and Trigel throw him.

“Yes, it was not easy,” Trigel agrees. “But as you should know, Zarkon has a talent for getting people to do what he wants them to do — to paint a certain kind of picture that suits him the best.”

Alfor offers Trigel a sympathetic look before taking a deep breath, but Keith waves his hand. “Another question.”

“What is it?” Alfor turns to Keith, his tone polite but his eyes sharp.

“I don’t understand why you destroyed Daibazaal,” Keith says.

Alfor’s expression tightens, just a bit, but it’s gone in a blink of an eye. “The rift would have destroyed the entire system. It was necessary.”

“Keith,” Shiro warns, but Keith ignores him as he leans forward, his ears drawing back.

“See, that’s what I don’t get. Why would you agree to open the rift even more if it was so dangerous? I don’t believe you didn’t make sure it would work. And as for destroying the planet? If Honerva’s plan would’ve worked, why didn’t you just have someone else pilot Black? Or some of the other Lions, if that would’ve been easier. I’m sure they would have been okay with it if you’d just explained the situation to them.”

Alfor stares at Keith, and though Keith can’t read his expression, it sends a chill down his spine.

“It was for the best, the planet was not salvageable. And in case you didn’t know, you cannot just have someone pilot one of the Lions no matter how dire the situation is. That would not have worked,” Alfor replies after a few seconds.

Keith’s ears draws back at Alfor’s tone, but he doesn’t let it stop him.  “And just in case  _ you  _ didn’t know, I know that the Lions would let someone pilot them if it was important. Black has let me pilot her three times now because of a tough situation so that’s complete bullshit.”

The line of Alfor’s mouth hardens. “I assume Shiro here was in danger in each of those situations? That is a completely different case, one that I am willing to explain to you once we have dealt with the actual topic at hand here.”

“So why open the rift at all?” Keith asks when Alfor is about to address the others again.

“I trusted Honerva to know what she was talking about,” Alfor says patiently, turning back to Keith.

Keith quirks an eyebrow. “You didn’t check her work? At all?”

“Of course I did — “

“So you agreed to an extremely dangerous experiment because you ‘trusted Honerva to know what she was talking about’? And even after checking her work you didn’t come up with  _ any _ backup plan? Even after you had basically cut off all ties with Zarkon and the Galra because Zarkon didn’t agree with you when you  _ yourself _ said the rift was affecting them? Did you all just assume they became sane overnight or something?”

All eyes land on Alfor and it’s clearly not what he wants.

“I am not sure why I need to explain myself to you.” Alfor offers Keith a polite if tense smile.

Keith shrugs. “You don’t, but I’m just trying to hear your side of the things since I’ve heard Zarkon’s.”

Alfor shakes his head minutely, his smile gaining a disdainful edge — or maybe that’s just in Keith’s mind. “I’m sure you haven’t heard the truth, then. I’d be more than happy to tell you what happened when we are not trying to discuss another matter.”

“So when Zarkon came to ask you why you destroyed him home and most of his culture even when you had the technology to at least save important parts of their history even if the planet was doomed, you didn’t tell him to be grateful for the little you’d done and shut up?” Keith holds Alfor’s gaze as his smile slowly falls.

“I assure you, if Zarkon had come to me, I would never had said something so horrible,” Alfor replies after a moment.

Keith frowns. “But he did come to see you.  _ Coran _ told me not too long ago that he came to see you.”

Trigel shifts and Gyrgan crosses his arms, their attention shifting from Keith to Alfor along everyone else’s.

Alfor stares at Keith, his expression unreadable. Keith shifts under his gaze, hating himself a little for it, feeling he just lost something.

“I do not have to explain myself to you,” Alfor says eventually. “But I assure you, I never said anything like that.”

“Then why would Zarkon say you did?”

“Because it is what you needed to hear,” Alfor replies sharply, then sighs, adopting a more resigned pose. “You have to understand; the Galra are exceptional when it comes to conquering others, they always have been — especially Zarkon. He once told me that the key to growing an empire is not fighting, but presenting yourself in a way that makes your enemy think opposing you is the worst thing they can do; be it by having a large military or saying something that makes the people side with you — as he did with you, apparently, and their people.” Alfor waves his hand at Trigel and Gyrgan.

Keith opens his mouth, but Shiro touches his arm. Keith turns to him and Shiro shakes his head. Keith bites his lip, but keeps his mouth shut.

“As for the topic we were on,” Alfor continues as if Keith hadn’t interrupted him. “We aren’t sure how we managed to get through the rift; the best estimate we have is that we struck an opening that already had a pathway through the two realities — the kind of pathway we have learned to utilize.”

“We are lucky you did,” Coran says.

Keith shifts. “It’s been ten thousand years, how are you alive?”

Allura shoots to her feet, fixing Keith with a hard glare. “A word?”

Keith glances at Shiro who nods, so Keith follows Allura into the hallway. Once they’re there, Allura swirls around and levels Keith with a hard stare. “What is wrong with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“That is my father! How can you be so... mean?” Allura stares at Keith, her eyes angry.

Keith sighs. “I know he’s your father, and I get you’re happy to have him back — no, I really do. I lost my father when I was young and I’d give _ anything _ to have him back. But as much as I’d want everything to be fine, I can’t ignore feeling like something’s off.”

“Maybe you’re just biased because of Zarkon and his manipulations,” Allura suggests.

Keith grits his teeth, deciding to ignore Allura’s sharp tone. “I know something’s wrong the same way I knew the Blue Lion was on the desert. I’m not asking you to turn on him, but I’d hope you wouldn’t let your excitement of having your father back blind you. It’s been ten thousand years! People change. Are you even sure that’s  _ your  _ father? How do you know he’s not someone pretending to be him because it suits his needs right now?”

Allura scowls. “Perhaps you should stop looking for something to be wrong. Don’t you think I know my own father? It is him, I know it. There is nothing wrong, so stop acting like there is.”

Keith is about to argue when Lance clears his throat behind their backs. Keith and Allura both turn their glares at him, and though Lance shrinks in on himself for a second, he straightens up just as fast. “Can I talk to Keith? Human to former human?”

Allura studies Keith critically before nodding and returning to the lounge.

As soon as the door closes behind her, Keith turns to tell Lance he doesn’t need his opinion, but Lance grabs his arm and drags him away.

“What are you — “

“Just shut up for a second,” Lance whispers harshly.

Keith allows Lance to drag him all the way into Lance’s room. Once there, Lance holds a finger up to Keith until the door closes, then he rummages through his room — that’s a lot neater than Keith expected — before turning to Keith. “You need to stop that.”

Keith’s ears flatten and he bares his teeth for a tick, but Lance holds his hands up to pacify him. “I know something’s wrong.”

Keith’s anger vanishes, replaced by surprise. “What?”

“I was in that other universe, remember? There was something...  _ off _ about that place. It was like everyone was scared of them“ — Lance waves his hand at the door — “but not openly. It was like they weren’t allowed to be scared or something so they tried to hide it. I know the rift messes with your head but I’m not paranoid. Something  _ was _ wrong there.” Lance looks at Keith, his eyes pleading, like he needs someone to believe him.

“What do you mean they seemed scared of them? Who?” Keith asks, crossing his arms.

“Everyone but the Alteans working for Alfor,” Lance replies. “They... they weren’t outwardly scared, but they had this air about them — like they were terrified, you know? If you gave them a cup with water when Alfor, Trigel or Gyrgan was in the room, you could see their hands shake.”

Keith frowns, thinking it over. “I know something’s off, but I can’t tell what. For the most part they  _ seem  _ fine, but...”

“It’s how they look at you — like they can see through you,” Lance finishes for Keith.

“Yeah,” Keith agrees.

Lance shifts, hugging himself, his shoulders drawing up. “Did you get a weird feeling from Zarkon?”

Keith shakes his head. “No. Well, yeah, at first, but that was just Zarkon being Zarkon. He knows how to creep people out by just being in the room.”

“Must be annoying,” Lance muses.

Keith shrugs. “It loses a lot when you learn how much of a nerd he is.”

Lance laughs. “What?”

“If you ever want to give him a gift, get him a bonsai tree.” Keith smiles at the confusion on Lance’s face before turning more serious. “I think we should do something about Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan.”

“No.” Lance lifts his hand to shut Keith up. “Allura and Coran would never go with it, and I’m not sure Shiro, Pidge or Hunk would either. And the Lions like them; Red stopped listening to me in the other universe until Alfor told her that she shouldn’t just ditch me. They have an army and three out of five Lions on their side, four if you count Blue and Allura, and what do we have? And don’t say each other.”

“Wasn’t gonna,” Keith replies, frowning as he thinks. “We have Zarkon.”

Lance barks a laugh. “Seriously?”

“Zarkon has an army, a fucking big one. And resources and a willingness to pick a fight with Alfor,” Keith explains. “If all goes to shit, he’d be our best bet.”

Lance frowns. “I don’t like it. We’ve been fighting against him because of what he’s done to the universe, I don’t think I could ever work with him.”

“Enemy of my enemy is my friend and all that,” Keith says. “And besides, for all we know Alfor and his friends are some alternative reality assholes that took a chance to come here and... I don’t know. Take over? At least Zarkon is from  _ this _ reality. We can deal with the Galra, we can’t deal with another army, not when the leaders of that army can take over the Lions.”

Lance sighs. “I suppose. I’ll think about it, okay? In the meantime, we should... I don’t know. Keep our heads low and observe?”

“That might be smart. Try to figure out who thinks what, too. We might need all the people on our side that we can get sooner or later,” Keith replies.

Lance nods, his expression determined. “Yeah. And you do the same.”

Keith inclines his head, and together they return to the lounge where Keith takes his seat by Thace’s side, and remains silent for the remainder of the meeting.

 

* * *

Shiro will have to tell Lance and Keith what Alfor told them — or at least Lance, he’s not sure if Keith will hear him. Not that Alfor had told them much, just that they had escaped Zarkon and ended up colliding with a rift, and the people on the other side had taken care of them; and since the rift had affected them — just a little, according to Alfor, just the not dying part, nothing more — they had been given more and more authority as time passed. It had made sense to Shiro, even if Alfor had been... vague.

It’s probably just Alfor not trusting the new Paladins. Shiro wouldn’t blame him; after what happened with Zarkon, Alfor has every right to be wary of new people.

Shiro would follow Keith if Thace wasn’t there to block him — probably on Keith’s orders.

“His loyalties are to Keith, not you or me,” Kolivan tells Shiro when he mentions it. “Don’t take it personally.”

“I see that hasn’t changed, then,” Gyrgan says from behind them. Shiro turns to him in time to see him cross his arms. “Where are Keith’s loyalties, then? With the Galra or with us?”

Shiro barely resists the urge to scowl. “Keith’s with us.”

It’s not entirely true, Shiro thinks, but it’s not a lie either; Keith  _ is _ with them, he just disagrees with their methods. “He’s just curious,” Shiro adds.

“Thace considers it his duty to keep Keith safe,” Kolivan explains.

Gyrgan doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue Kolivan’s point either. Instead he returns to Alfor’s side.

Shiro returns his attention back to Kolivan. “What are you going to do with Thace if he’s... is he leaving the Blade?”

Kolivan tilts his head, considering. “I doubt he will fully leave us, but he is more inclined to follow Keith’s lead than anyone else’s at the moment.”

Shiro nods, trying to wrap his mind around the way that the whole thing works.

“Is there a problem?” Alfor asks, joining them just as Kolivan is about to leave.

“No,” Shiro assures him. “I’m just trying to understand Galran dynamics, that’s all.”

Alfor nods slowly. “It takes time.”

Shiro laughs and nods. “Yeah, I’m beginning to notice that.”

“Although, it gets easier when you realize it all comes down to who holds the most power in any given situation,” Alfor adds.

Shiro raises an eyebrow while Kolivan’s ears flatten minutely.

Alfor raises a hand. “Not that that’s all there is to it, but with my decaphoebes of working closely with the Galra I found that to be the case. Unless things have changed since then?” He offers Kolivan a curious look.

“I suppose that can be true in certain situations, even if it is a rather crude way of putting it,” Kolivan says, albeit grudgingly.

Alfor smiles, then turns more serious. “Speaking of the Galra — and I trust you to understand where we are coming from — but Gyrgan, Trigel and I would be more comfortable if you and your people were to limit your presence here. For now, at least. Until we get to know each other better. It’s nothing personal, I assure you, but considering how our last alliance with the Galra ended...”

Kolivan does a good job at not showing what he’s thinking as he bows minutely. “I can work with that.”

“And the one guarding Keith? Thace, was he?” Alfor tilts his head. “Is he leaving as well?”

“Keith would leave too,” Shiro replies.

Alfor glances at Kolivan. “With them?”

Shiro shifts, not meeting Alfor’s eyes. “I think he’d go back to Zarkon.”

“You think he would leave you?” Alfor raises an eyebrow. “I have noticed you two are rather close. I would assume he would prefer to stay with you.”

Shiro shakes his head, laughing mirthlessly.

“I think I will take my leave,” Kolivan says and bows before walking away.

“If you make him choose between me and Zarkon, he’s gonna pick Zarkon,” Shiro says quietly as he watches Kolivan walk away. Once he’s left the room, Shiro turns back to Alfor. “He’ll pick Zarkon over anyone.”

“You sound very sure of that,” Alfor says.

“Look.” Shiro sighs, crossing his arms. “Whoever Keith wants to spend his life with is fine with me as long as it makes him happy, and it’s not like I think we’d never see each other again, but if Keith has to choose, he’ll go to Zarkon. The only reason he’s not there right now is because they had an argument.”

“Over what?”

Shiro shrugs. “I’m not sure. Keith wouldn’t go into detail.”

It’s a lie and Shiro doesn’t like it, but it’s not his place to disclose details about Keith’s relationships without Keith’s permission. If Alfor can tell Shiro’s not being entirely truthful, he lets it go, probably because Allura joins them, grinning widely.

Soon after Shiro takes the opportunity to slip out of the lounge.

 

* * *

A week passes, and Keith doesn’t grow any easier around Alfor, Gyrgan and Trigel. Shiro doesn’t know what to do about it.

Shiro glances at the clock, sighing when it tells him he’s woken up a full two hours before he needs to. Keith shifts against his side, his ears twitching as he kicks Shiro’s chin in his sleep. Shiro smiles and moves his leg out of Keith’s way, wondering what he’s dreaming about.

Disentangling himself from Keith without waking him up is harder than Shiro expected, but somehow he manages it. He puts his clothes on quietly, then sneaks out of the room, giving himself a moment to be proud of himself for not waking Keith up.

Shiro takes a quick detour to the kitchen on his way to the bridge, where he finds Alfor deep in conversation with Trigel and Gyrgan — not that it’s surprising. They stop talking the moment Shiro enters, and turn to him.

“I didn’t mean to bother you,” Shiro starts.

“You’re not bothering us at all,” Alfor assures him, waving him to come closer. “We’ve just been considering our next move.”

Shiro joins them, scanning the map of the Empire they have worked so hard to build over the past years. “Anything I can help you with?”

“I doubt it,” Trigel says. “We know the best way to combat Zarkon, we are just trying to figure out where he is.”

“The Central Command?” Shiro suggests. “That’s where he spent pretty much all of his time before we destroyed it. They’ve rebuild it by now, so I’d imagine he’s gone back there.”

“Not on whatever planet he decided igos od enough for his people?” Gyrgan crosses his arms and tilts his head.

Shiro shakes his head. “I don’t think so.”

“Do you know where the new Galra homeworld is?” Trigel asks.

“No,” Shiro replies. “It’s hidden.”

“Would Keith know?” Trigel continues.

Shiro shakes his head. “Zarkon was taking him there, but we attacked them and took Keith before he could do that.”

“What about Thace?” Alfor lifts an eyebrow, seemingly unaware of Shiro’s frown.

“Even if he’d know, he’d never tell us where it is,” Shiro says. “Why does it matter?”

Alfor shrugs. “Moving our forces closer to the planet would keep Zarkon from focusing on what happens anywhere else; he tends to get... a bit focused on a single thing sometimes.” Alfor smiles reassuringly at Shiro. “I’m not suggesting we do anything to the planet, just direct Zarkon’s focus there so that we will have an easier time dismantling the Empire quickly.”

Shiro nods slowly. “Like I said, they don’t share where their home planet is, and no one here knows. It might be a good plan in theory, but executing it would be hard.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Gyrgan says, sounding far more sure of himself than Shiro would expect.

“Well, unfortunately I can’t help you with that,” Shiro says, apologetic.

“It is alright,” Alfor assures him. “But if you want to help, perhaps you could see if Keith knows anything at all? I doubt he’d talk to us, he seems to think we’re the enemy.”

“No, he doesn’t. He’s just wary of new people,” Shiro hurries to say.

“If you say so,” Alfor replies, though he doesn’t seem convinced.

Shiro nods and leaves them to it, feeling too much like he’s intruding. He returns to his room, only to find Keith still fast asleep. Not wanting to wake Keith up, Shiro picks his pad up and settles by the desk, turning the volume of his pad down along with the brightness of the screen.

Shiro reads the message from Matt he knows to expect these days, but he has nothing new to tell him about the situation with the Rebellion.

The second message is far more interesting as Shiro doesn’t recognize the sender. He frowns as he clicks on the message, and his eyes widen when Lotor’s smiling face pops on the screen.

“I require that favor now,” Lotor’s image says, then disappears as the video cuts off.

Shiro groans quietly as he sets the pad down, then he strips his clothes off and crawls back to bed with Keith, taking comfort in the way Keith presses against him even in his sleep.

 

* * *

 

Keith avoids going to the bridge or interacting with anyone who isn’t Thace, Shiro, or Lance, mostly for his own sanity, partly because he keeps getting into arguments with Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan.

Thace continues to help Keith keep busy while everyone else is occupied with the war. Keith needs the distraction; he needs to not think about Alfor and Trigel and Gyrgan, and what their presence there means. He needs to not think about whether or not he should make sure Zarkon knows they’re alive.

He probably should.

He definitely should.

Alfor wants to kill Zarkon, so telling Zarkon about it would be smart — for Keith’s own sake alone.

Keith pokes at the bond, hesitant and unsure of what he’s even supposed to do, but it remains unresponsive. Keith groans and rubs his face. Of course Zarkon is ignoring him. But he can’t keep it up for too long; the bond will start acting up if they don’t use it, so sooner or later Zarkon will have to lower his shields and Keith can tell him what’s going on.

The knock on the door startles Keith out of his thoughts. “Come in.”

Shiro enters the room, smiling at Keith, and Keith can’t help but smile back.

“I didn’t tell you earlier but... Lotor left me a message,” Shiro starts as soon as the door closes behind him, and Keith sits a little straighter. “I called him back, and he wants me to go to this planet to meet him. Apparently he could use my help with something.”

Keith frowns while Shiro comes to sit on the edge of Keith’s desk. “Are you going?”

“I have to, I promised him I’d do him a favor. I’m just not sure how I’m gonna slip out of here without raising any alarms,” Shiro replies, sighing. “Ideas?”

“Take me on a date,” Keith suggests. “You can claim it’s all in the name of making me feel like I belong here instead of with the Galra if Alfor starts asking questions; I think he’d like it if I was on his side.”

Shiro stares at Keith for a few long seconds, then he leans down to press a kiss on Keith’s neck. “Have I told you how amazing you are today?”

“You have now,” Keith laughs.

Shiro presses another kiss on Keith’s cheek before straightening up again. “You’d be coming with me, then?”

“Obviously. I want to say hi to Lotor.”

“You can’t tell him about Alfor,” Shiro says.

Keith frowns. “And why is that?”

“Because this is the first time we have a legitimate chance to —“ Shiro bites his lip.

“To what?” Keith asks, lifting an eyebrow. “To kill Zarkon?”

“That’s not what I meant,” Shiro says, but Keith only narrows his eyes.

“I’ve told you, if you want to kill Zarkon, just kill me. It’d be a lot easier.”

Shiro shakes his head. “I don’t want you to die. What I meant to say was that this is our best chance to bring the Empire down. We can take Zarkon into custody or something; he doesn’t have to die.”

Keith laughs, the sound of it joyless in the room. “You might think that, but the rest of the universe will never agree to that. And that’s assuming you  _ could _ take Zarkon into custody. You really think he’d ever allow that to happen? Just accept that we’re gonna die before the end of this war unless something changes drastically.”

Shiro doesn’t reply, but he does lay a hand on Keith’s shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Keith leans into the touch. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, the first thing you’re going to do is realize you’re never going to have to do anything alone; I’m here, and I’m gonna help you, no matter what,” Shiro says.

Keith presses his face into Shiro’s thigh and sighs, unsure of how else to deal with Shiro’s words. Shiro massages his neck, then rubs Keith’s ear until Keith purrs quietly.

“If we go see Lotor together,” Shiro starts, his voice quiet. “We need to agree about what we tell him. I know you want Zarkon to know about Alfor, but we need to consider what we can safely tell the Galra; we can’t put ourselves and our allies in danger.”

Keith nods against Shiro’s thigh. “We’re not telling Alfor about the bond.”

“Of course not,” Shiro agrees. “But we do need to keep our side safe as well, okay?”

“We’ll figure out what to tell Lotor later, okay? We need to figure out a way off this ship first,” Keith says.

Shiro hums. “So how do we convince three ten thousand year old rulers who also created Voltron and piloted it for decades that we want to take a weekend off in the middle of a war?”

After a moment Keith turns his head so that he can look up into Shiro’s eyes, and smiles. “I might have a few ideas.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this!


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes I'm on an editing spree so you guys are just gonna have to deal with getting a chapter every few days for now.

Alfor is surprisingly easy to convince that Shiro and Keith just want a few days for themselves — for their relationship’s sake. Shiro even pulls Alfor aside and tells him that it’ll be good for them all if they want Keith to feel more comfortable with them, and that’ll make him more likely to share what he learned with the Galra.

Keith hides his armor and weapons along with Shiro’s armor in a shuttle — it draws less attention than the Black Lion — and puts on an appropriate outfit for a fake date.

Shiro and Keith act happy and excited about their date, of spending time away together, and pack themselves into the shuttle. They have to fly in a wrong direction for a while, but as soon as they’re far enough from the Castleship to be out of their immediate sensor range they change directions.

Keith changes into his armor as soon as Shiro is done turning the shuttle around. He takes the controls and calls Lotor while Shiro puts his armor on.

“You are coming too?” Lotor asks as soon as he sees Keith.

“Yeah. I hope you don’t mind,” Keith replies.

Lotor shakes his head. “Not at all.”

“So whats this thing you need from me?” Shiro asks as he joins them. “You weren’t very clear on it when we last talked.”

Lotor offers Shiro a brief smile. “I will tell you about it as soon as you arrive, for now all you need to know that I am not expecting to run into conflict, and I do not wish to take up too much of your time. And that you do not need armor — at least not at first.”

Shiro and Keith share a look — both of them regretting changing into their armor — then Shiro nods. “That’s good to know.”

“We should be there by the first quarter of tomorrow,” Keith says, his attention on the controls before him. “Can you send us landing coordinates or —“

“There is a station circling the planet, so all you need to do is ask for docking clearance. I will send you codes that will ensure you get through the customs fast.” Lotor looks down, and soon Keith’s controls ping at an incoming message.

“We got them, thanks,” Shiro says.

Lotor inclines his head. “I look forward to working with you both.”

“Likewise,” Shiro replies as Keith inclines his head.

They end the call, and Shiro drops his smile as he turns to Keith. “We’re gonna be in trouble, aren’t we?”

“Probably,” Keith says. “But you made a deal with him, and I’m dating his father so I think we owe it to him to help him.”

“Probably,” Shiro agrees.

Keith sighs and — as the autopilot takes over — slumps on his seat and stares at the space before them. “You know, we’ve got almost twelve hours of travel ahead of us.”

“Don’t worry, I brought food,” Shiro says with a smile.

“I was thinking we could do something to entertain ourselves.” Keith turns to Shiro, biting his lip and smiling.

Shiro’s expression turns knowing. “Really? Here?”

“Why not? Were gonna have to change clothes again either way.”

“Because —“ Shiro spreads his arms. “Why the hell not? It’s gotta be some kind of a space travel milestone anyways.”

Keith grins and stands, and as soon as Shiro is on his feet as well, Keith pulls him to the back of the shuttle and onto the floor there, reaching for his bag where he’d packed the bottle of oil just in case he could talk Shiro into this. Shiro guides Keith to straddle his hips and kisses him, and Keith grins and focuses on getting them both undressed.

 

* * *

Keith handles the customs, but only because he’s the one who has already done it once. Shiro takes care of letting Lotor know they’ve arrived.

Lotor tells them to come down to the planet and find the shopping center, and meet him there by the fountain.

“Lotor says we’ll know it when we see it,” Shiro says when Keith asks him what fountain Lotor means.

Keith rolls his eyes follows Shiro into the transport ship departing for the planet. Keith smiles at Shiro’s excitement, reminded by the time Zarkon took him to the market.

Shiro takes Keith’s hand, and together they exit the ship. They’re both anxious to see the place they’re in — a planet that the Galra had colonized hundreds of years ago, that’s now home to people of all races as well as a popular tourist location and a stop point on many ships’ journeys.

Keith gawks at the architecture of the place as soon as they’ve excited the terminal for incoming ships; the buildings are tall, and the roads — sandy stone at places, something like dark metal at others — run on who knows how many different levels. Keith counts three, but he’s sure there’s more; they crisscross, one level higher than the other, and there are people hanging on the railings, taking pictures and just admiring the view of the street running below them.

“How are we supposed to find a shopping center here?” Shiro asks.

“I think it’s a matter of finding the right one,” Keith replies. “No way a place like this has only one shopping center.”

Shiro sighs and shrugs. “Start with the closest one and go from there?”

“Sounds like a plan.” Keith smiles at Shiro, and when Shiro tugs Keith’s hand, Keith follows him into the city.

They walk past aliens Keith has never seen before, and they’re too numerous for him to count. Instead Keith focuses his attention on the colorful murals on the wall of the higher walkway, and the river running next to the one below the one Keith and Shiro are on. They walk through a tunnel when the higher platform crosses over the one they’re on, and the tunnel is lighted with bright lights, and the walls have directions and maps of the city and its levels on large billboards, and kids painting graffiti on the clear spots of the walls.

They consult the map to find the closest shopping center, and once they’ve located it they head in that direction. It doesn’t take them long to find the shopping center, and when they reach it they take a moment to stare at it; the sheer size of the place — Keith has to crane his neck to see the dome roof of the building — makes them fear they won’t find a fountain in the place. The dark walls have large, simple yet beautiful red shapes painted on them, and Keith wonders if they have any significant meaning beyond being decorative.

“This is gonna take a while,” Keith mutters.

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees, then tears his eyes from the building to look at Keith. “Good thing we have money; maybe we can find food or drinks while we search.”

Keith smiles and nods. “Ready?”

“I guess so,” Shiro replies.

Keith grabs Shiro’s hand and pulls him into the masses, and allows the flow of people take them into the mall.

The inside is just as impressive as the outside had been; there are shops and vendors everywhere, and the air is filled with the scent of food and perfume and the hum of life as people walk around. The vendors call out to the passersby to come and see what they are selling, and Keith slows down to watch a Galra woman with two children at her feet argue with a three armed vendor owner twice her size.

Keith would put his money on the woman winning.

“I smell food,” Shiro says and pulls Keith towards what looks to be a cafe.

Keith laughs, but considering the sheer amount of ground they have to cover to find the fountain, he agrees that eating now is the smart thing to do.

They get soda like drinks and salty snacks in paper cones, and continue their search for the fountain.

Over an hour passes as they wander purposefully around, but eventually they find a fountain in what Shiro had dubbed the east wing — it’s more of a southeast wing, but it doesn’t sound as good and they need some way to keep track of where they’ve been.

The fountain is hard to miss; it’s almost two floors high and silvery, with four seahorse like mermaid figures — Keith would have to ask Lance or Hunk if they’re anything like the mermaids they had encountered — pouring water from pitchers to four wide bowls, all at different heights, and the water spills from one to another. The pool at the bottom glistens in rainbow shades, and as Keith leans over the ledge and studies it a little closer he sees colorful rocks embedded to the bottom, similar to the ones on the mermaid’s eyes, the pitchers and the rims of their bowls.

“That’s a... thing,” Shiro says, rubbing his neck. “Maybe a bit too much for a shopping center.”

“It’s an alien culture, Shiro,” Keith reminds him. “Be nice.”

They make their way down to the lower level and to the edge of the fountain.

“So, do we wait here or go find another shopping center with another fountain?” Keith asks.

Shiro checks his pocket pad. “We’re a little early, so I say we wait. If we’re not in the right place Lotor will let us know.”

They sit at the edge of the fountain, observing the passersby and trying to puzzle out what kind of places they come from. It’s fun trying to figure out what kind of planets are out there just by seeing the multitude of aliens walking by.

“I hope I have not kept you waiting.”

Keith swirls around at Lotor’s voice, and Shiro does the same. Lotor smiles and tilts his head, his eyes on Shiro rather than Keith. It’s odd, and Keith glances at Shiro, turning to him fully when he finds Shiro staring at Lotor with just a bit too wide eyes.

Realizing everyone’s attention is on him, Shiro looks away, blushing faintly, and clears his throat.

Keith can understand Shiro’s reaction, though; when you’re used to seeing someone in armor, seeing them in casual clothing — or as casual as royals get — is strange. Lotor’s dark suit is not quite Galran despite the sharp cut and the high collar; there’s something too soft in the silvery details.

“We weren’t sure we were in the right place,” Keith says, turning his attention back to Lotor. “This place is way too big to have only one shopping center.”

“There are three shopping centers in this city, but the two others are quite far away. And there are other places to shop as well, of course; there is a lovely, more traditional Galran bazaar, for example. I think you might enjoy it.” Lotor offers Keith a polite nod.

Shiro stands. “So, what did you want with us?”

“With you,” Lotor corrects him. “I need  _ you  _ to ensure that a certain someone will meet with me — your position as a the leader of Voltron will be very helpful.”

Keith watches Lotor and Shiro size each other up, wishing he still had his drink so that he would have something to do. They all know Shiro will say yes, but both Shiro and Lotor need to pretend for a moment, and Keith is not in a hurry to go anywhere.

Eventually Shiro backs down. “Who is this person?”

“A programmer of sorts. She is not inclined to talk to a Galra, however, and I was hoping you would... persuade her,” Lotor replies.

Shiro sighs. “I did promise I’d help, didn’t I?”

“You did,” Lotor agrees.

Keith takes the opportunity to stand up. “Can we get food before that? We only got snacks when we came here and I don’t know about you two, but I’m hungry and I’m getting a headache.”

Shiro turns to Keith, a concerned frown on his face. “Is it...”

It takes Keith a second to realize what Shiro means, and he shakes his head. “No, I’m just hungry.”

“You told him?” Lotor asks, sounding just a bit shocked.

“Yeah, he’s... it’s complicated,” Keith replies.

Lotor narrows his eyes, his gaze moving between Shiro and Keith for a moment.

“Yes, we’re sleeping together and yes, Zarkon threw a fit even though he said it was fine. He’s been ignoring me for a few weeks now.”

“A little more than a few weeks,” Shiro corrects.

“Well.” Lotor straightens his coat. “I would assume Father will stop eventually. This bond of yours does affect him as well, correct?”

Keith inclines his head. “That’s what I’ve been thinking.”

Lotor studies Keith for a moment, then his pose relaxes and he smiles again. “If you want to eat, I would be more than happy to show you the best places to try out.”

Shiro relaxes as well. “That’d be great, thanks.”

Lotor waves Keith and Shiro to follow, and he leads them into the flow of people without another word about Zarkon, the bond, or Shiro’s favor to him.

 

* * *

Shiro is happy to be back in his armor, even if it’s just for appearances sake. Keith has put his armor on as well, though he’s got a coat on top of it so the armor isn’t visible.

When they meet Lotor, Shiro lets out a quiet, relieved breath when he sees Lotor is also in his armor, despite the cape clipped around his shoulders. Lotor claims the armor is for safety reasons — “you never know how someone who does not want to meet you will react” — and Shiro accepts it as the truth.

The streets aren’t empty, but the night has made them less crowded, despite the bright lights keeping the city well lit. Lotor guides Shiro and Keith through the streets to the highest street level, where they take a train to the edges of the city. The train travels high on rails above the city, and if Lotor wasn’t explaining what he expects from Shiro he’d have his face glued to the window.

The train ride takes mere minutes, and soon Lotor is leading Keith and Shiro past the city limits.

“There is a Galran information processing base near here,” Lotor explains. “We will need to use it to find out where your target is.”

Shiro doesn’t like to refer to the person who he’s supposed to meet as a target, but he keeps that to himself. Instead he focuses on the deep cracks in the rock they’re walking on. They make it seem like the ground is hollow. He doesn’t think that’s the case, as there’s a city right there next to the cracks, but with space technology anything is possible, so he doesn’t rule it out either. He’s about to ask Lotor about it when an explosion shakes the ground.

Lotor ducks, and so does Keith. Shiro’s arm flares to life as he crouches on the ground. He can’t see what caused the explosion — too close to them to be a coincidence — and it puts him on edge. “Can you get to those rocks there?”

Lotor glances over his shoulder and inclines his head.

“Then run,” Shiro orders, pushing himself off the ground and grabbing Lotor’s arm when he opens his mouth to protest instead of doing what Shiro tells him to do. Keith is already running, so Shiro doesn’t worry about him.

Another explosion goes off at their heels.

“Someone is firing at us,” Lotor says, pulling Shiro to run faster.

Shiro glances over his shoulder, but he can’t see anything. But that doesn’t mean there’s nothing there; Shiro can name one group with invisible ships from the top of his head.

Shiro’s blood runs cold. He can’t believe Alfor would have sent his people to attack him and Keith. It must be a coincidence — they must be there for Lotor or the Galra base.

Lotor and Shiro join Keith behind the rock formation, panting and on alert.

“Is that — “

“The people who’ve been attacking us?” Shiro cuts in before Keith can bring Alfor’s name up. “I’m not sure.”

“Yes,” Lotor says. “It is them.”

Keith’s ears flatten and Shiro already dreads the damage control he’ll have to do when this situation is over.

“We must get to the forest,” Lotor says, seemingly oblivious to Keith’s mood and turns towards the forest by the shoreline of the vast ocean, still so far away from them. “The bedrock is stable there.”

“The bedrock is... is the ground unstable?” Keith stares at Lotor with wide eyes.

Lotor inclines his head as another explosion sends rocks flying over their heads. “This field between the ocean and the city is bare for a reason. It is safe to walk on, but that is about it. We cannot run back to the city, but we might be able to reach the forest and take cover there while we plan our counter attack.”

“We’ll get blown up before we reach the forest,” Shiro points out, waving at the vast expanse of open field with only sparse rock formations between them and safety.

“We’ll run from rock formation to another,” Keith says. “That way we won’t be in the open all the time.”

There aren’t enough rock formations for them to make it to the forest, and they all know it.

“How about — “

The ground trembles, then cracks and disappears from under them. Shiro reaches for Keith, but he’s falling, and Keith’s hand slips from his before he’s even caught it.

 

* * *

Shiro wakes up to Keith calling his name in the distance. He groans and cracks his eyes open, and Keith’s concerned face floats into his vision. Keith’s hair and face have blood on it and there’s a nasty scrape on his left cheek, but his eyes are sharp.

“You’ve been out for a few minutes. Lotor’s not doing much better. He was babbling earlier so be mindful of what you say to him; I don’t think he has much of a filter right now,” Keith tells Shiro quietly. Shiro tries to push himself up, but Keith’s hand on his shoulder stops him. “Take a moment to rest. Here” — Keith presses a strip of cloth on Shiro’s forehead — “I’m gonna check on Lotor again.”

Keith disappears, and Shiro closes his eyes for a moment. When he opens his eyes again he’s a bit more coherent, and he manages to look around. The walls have moss growing on them that glows with soft pink, illuminating the small cave they’re in. Shiro can’t see the sky, but there are narrow tunnels leading out of the cave, so they might not be completely trapped.

As soon as he can get up, Shiro joins Keith and Lotor. Keith has helped Lotor to sit on a rock — one of the rocks they had hid behind by the looks of it — and Shiro’s tempted to take the one next to his.

Keith spares Shiro a look, then he stands and guides Shiro away from Lotor. “We’re trapped.”

“I figured as much.” Shiro nods towards Lotor. “Is he okay?”

Keith sighs. “He hit his head and I think he broke his leg or at least twisted it really bad — he wouldn’t put weight on it — but he’ll live. What about you?”

“My whole body hurts and my shoulder definitely took a hit along with my head, but I can think relatively clearly, a minor concussion aside.” Shiro offers Keith a reassuring smile. “I’ll be fine, I just need a moment.”

“Good. I guess that makes me the one who has to look for a way out,” Keith says. “I got a hold of the wall” — Keith shows Shiro his claws that, even through the armored gloves, have torn and splintered, leaving them a bleeding mess — “so I’ll be needing one hell of a manicure, but I’m also concussion free. Look after Lotor while I’m gone?”

Shiro nods. “Of course.”

Keith bites his lip, then presses a kiss on the corner of Shiro’s mouth before hurrying towards the nearest tunnel.

Shiro watches Keith’s retreating back until he disappears out of sight before sighing and meandering to Lotor, and wrapping the strip cloth in his hands around his wrist absently.

Lotor glances at Shiro, then laughs, the joyless sound bouncing off the walls of the cave they’re trapped in. “Sit down and rest. I have no intention of fighting with you when you are my best chance of getting out of here at this moment.”

“Why would you want to fight with me?” Shiro still sits down on the rock next to Lotor’s.

“Keith told me you have made friends with the people who attacked us, but he did not go into much detail.” Lotor pushes a bloodied strand of hair behind his ear. “Be honest; were they your friends?”

Shiro tilts his head, considering it. “I’d like to say yes, but I don’t know. We have been working with... with those people, but they’re a large army and it’s just me and Keith here, so it might just be that they didn’t identify us, or they were attacking you and Keith because you’re Galra, or they were here for the Galra base.”

Lotor doesn’t reply, but he doesn’t look convinced either.

“Any chance you could contact your people and have them pick us up? I imagine the Empire could dig us out of here in seconds,” Shiro says after a while.

“My people.” Lotor scoffs. “I do not think they would share that sentiment.”

Shiro frowns. “You’re Galra, and Zarkon’s son at that — you’re their Prince. I’d think that they love you.”

Lotor looks at Shiro, amused and... almost sad. “The Galra do not take kindly to half-breeds, let alone one with Altean blood, especially one that is the only heir to the Galra throne.”

Shiro blinks, taken aback by Lotor’s words. “But... You’re Zarkon’s son.”

“You saw how warmly he welcomed me onto his ship.”

Shiro remembers it, he remembers the cool at best attitude Zarkon had about Lotor, the way he’d dismissed Lotor without a glance.

“Why does he treat you like that? Keith’s told me that the Galra are supposed to be family oriented.”

“The fact that we are family oriented is the only reason he has not denounced me as his child and driven me out of the Empire all together,” Lotor replies, then sighs, his shoulders slumping. “As it is I simply do not meet his standards.”

Shiro frowns, shifting on his rock and trying to decide if he should ask what Lotor means, or if it’s even his place. But the sadness that creeps into Lotor’s eyes as he studies the ground at his feet is something Shiro recognizes all too well, and he can’t help but ask Lotor about it.

“I have lived for ten thousand years, I’ve spent most of that time being a child, as I grew rather slowly. My father... he was not the worst parent; he was there when I needed him, constantly monitoring what I did, but he was... absent, even when he was in the same room. I could never please him. I tried, but I was always lacking in some way. No one was ever cruel to me in his presence; they simply pretended I wasn’t there, and Father did the same. When I started training with others, they would be too violent with me, but they would fix me before allowing me to return to my father so that if I complained it would seem like I was making a big deal out of something that did not happen.” Lotor sighs. “Sometimes I wish he would have pushed me aside and not been so bound by the Galran family traditions; I would not have spent hundreds of years trying to gain something that is not possible to obtain.”

Shiro frowns. “What were you trying to get?”

Lotor snorts, and shakes his head, the movement making his whole body sway. Shiro grabs his arm to keep him from toppling over, not wanting him to worsen his concussion — probably the only reason he’s even talking so much. “I wanted him to love me, for him to look at me and be proud of me and not hate the fact that I am his blood. I have reached the point where I simply want the respect I deserve.”

“I don’t think that’s an unreasonable desire.”

Lotor shakes his head, Shiro’s hold on his arm keeping him relatively still. “A Galra is taught that a parent is supposed to love their child unconditionally. I should not have tried to do everything in my power to please him.”

“I know,” Shiro sighs, and at Lotor’s curious look he adds, “my mother was a workaholic. She was never home and I never felt like she was really happy about having a child.”

“The best thing you can do is to realize your attempts at earning their love are futile and learn to live with that reality,” Lotor says, looking away.

Shiro leans his elbows on his knees. “What did he do to you?”

“Nothing,” Lotor replies. “He has never done anything to me. I simply never registered as something important enough to warrant his attention. When I was a child and I came to him crying because Haggar had tormented me, he never did anything about it, just...”

“Just what?”

“It is not acceptable for a parent to leave their child crying, so he would let me sleep in his bed. I would lie by his side and wait until he was asleep before taking his hand, and pretend he cared.” Lotor frowns. “I was an idiot back then.”

“No, you were a kid, it was natural,” Shiro assures him. “Anyone would’ve done the same.”

Lotor quirks an eyebrow and meets Shiro’s eyes. “You have met my father; would you have tried to get anything but condescension out of him?”

Shiro pretends to think about it for a moment. “Probably not, but then again I’m not a Galra so I’m not stubborn enough to pull something like that off.”

It gets a laugh out of Lotor, which makes Shiro smile; they need to keep their spirits high and — if Shiro is honest — laughing suits Lotor rather well.

“I suppose we are a rather stubborn people,” Lotor concedes.

Shiro smiles and unwraps the strip cloth Keith had given him from his wrist, and presses it against the scrape on Lotor’s temple. Lotor’s eyes widen and he leans back for a moment, then he relaxes and lets Shiro tend to his wounds.

Keith returns half an hour later, a frown on his face.

“You couldn’t find a way out.” Shiro sighs and hands the cloth to Lotor so that he can run his hands through his hair.

“Sorry,” Keith says.

“Don’t be,” Lotor says. “These caves are notoriously hard to navigate.”

Keith flops down on the ground with a heavy sigh. “Good news is I got Zarkon to listen; he’s coming to dig us out.”

Both Shiro and Lotor stare at Keith in dumbfounded silence until Keith rolls his eyes. “I tore at least one claw out and my feet didn’t like the hit I took when I landed. It started to hurt like hell while I was walking and Zarkon deigned to make sure I’m not dying.”

Shiro nods, smiling at Keith as they all settle in to wait for rescue.

 

* * *

The Galra arrive hours later, by which time Shiro is feeling a little better and Lotor a little worse. Keith’s hands ache with dull pain that turns sharp if he tries to bend his fingers, and his feet thrum with pain he can ignore as long as he doesn’t move.

When the Galra dig them out, Shiro takes upon the task of helping Lotor. Keith could’ve done it himself, but he’s grateful for Shiro’s help nonetheless.

The sky is turning pale green in the horizon over the sea as the sun begins to climb up to the sky, but Keith doesn’t stop to admire the view; his eyes dart around as he tries to find Zarkon, though he’s not sure if he’s relieved or disappointed when he doesn’t see him anywhere.

An officer comes to check Keith up and tend to Keith’s hands, gently peeling his gloves off and dipping Keith’s hands in disinfectant that makes Keith hiss. She gives him pain medication for his legs, and after Keith’s fingers are properly cleaned, she applies a thin coating of protective gel on the tips of his fingers. The coating numbs Keith’s fingers, but also keeps them from taking more damage as he moves. Afters she’s done, she guides Keith to a small transport vehicle with Shiro and Lotor.

At least they don’t have to walk back to the city.

“Father is waiting for us there,” Lotor explains when Shiro questions why they’re getting a ride. “He must be looking into how the attack on us was possible.”

Shiro nods, while Keith tries to figure out how he can slip away without seeing Zarkon; he’s not sure he’s ready to face Zarkon after their fight and how Zarkon had reacted when Keith had sex with Shiro. The vehicle stops before Keith can figure out if he should run for it — despite his legs hurting like hell now that he’s started walking again — or if he should suck his anxiety up and face Zarkon.

The decision is made for him since Zarkon is already waiting for them, looking less than happy, especially when he spots Shiro. But rather than pay attention to Keith, Zarkon’s focus zeroes in on Lotor.

Lotor seems a little taken aback by the attention at first, but since Zarkon isn’t tearing Lotor to pieces, Keith takes the opportunity to take Shiro a little further away. He keeps an eye on Lotor and Zarkon, and though he can see Zarkon isn’t happy with something, Lotor doesn’t seem affected by Zarkon’s attitude. So Keith lets them be.

After a while, Shiro clears his throat. “You should talk to him.”

Keith turns to give him an incredulous look. “What?”

“Zarkon,” Shiro clarifies even though he doesn’t have to. “You’ll regret it if you don’t talk to him.”

Keith sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Just go tell him you’re willing to talk or something. Throw the ball into his corner.”

“Why are you so insistent on fixing our relationship?” Keith asks, frowning.

Shiro shrugs. “I’m not, really. If I could trust that you’d be okay with leaving here without talking to him I’d be all for it, but I know that won’t be the case. I just don’t want to see you miserable. And you two have that... thing, so it’s not like I can expect you two to part ways or anything.”

Keith bites his lip, studying Shiro’s tense smile; the way he tries to look like he doesn’t mind Keith going back to Zarkon even though he hates the idea.

Eventually Keith’s shoulders slump in resignation. “I’ll talk to him when he’s done with Lotor.”

Shiro’s smile turns sad. “Great.”

Keith turns his attention back to Zarkon and Lotor, watching them talk about something in quiet tones. “You do realize that I’m gonna tell him about what’s going on.”

“He’ll find out about it anyways,” Shiro says. “I wish you’d keep it a secret, but I’m not gonna force you to do it either. Not after today.”

When Lotor steps away from Zarkon, Shiro clears his throat and waves in Lotor’s general direction. “I promised him I’d talk with him so...”

“Go. I have to... I’ve got things to do.” Keith tries to smile, but it feels forced so he drops it.

Shiro nods and heads to Lotor, keeping as much distance between himself and Zarkon as he can.

Keith takes a deep, steadying breath, then he strides towards Zarkon, not allowing himself a moment to think about anything but what he is going to say. Zarkon stops talking to the officer that had stepped up to him the moment Lotor had limped away — he definitely broke something in his leg, no matter how much he insists he hasn’t and that the limp is because of a sprain — when Keith clears his throat behind him. “Can... I need to talk to you.”

Keith expects Zarkon to tell him to go away — maybe in harsher words — or just ignore him, but after a solid half a minute of staring at Keith, he inclines his head. Keith gives Zarkon a moment to finish his business with the officer before leading the way away from the Galra, to the nearest empty walkway. Keith reaches it before Zarkon, so he takes a moment to study the river running below them, the sounds of the Galra leaving for their ships distant behind him.

“Keith?”

Keith sighs, but he doesn’t turn around. “Look — “

“Let me speak.”

Keith grits his teeth at Zarkon’s commanding tone. “No, I have something I want to say and you’re — “

“I wish to apologize,” Zarkon says, and it’s enough to make Keith shut up, but he doesn’t dare to turn around.

“I am aware that I hurt you, and it was not my intention. I realize that the way I treated you when you came to stay with us might not have been ideal, but I still think it was necessary. I acknowledge that it caused you distress, but I cannot go back in time and change what happened,” Zarkon continues.

Keith turns, just a little, so that he can see Zarkon.

“As for your... situation after your time in the isolation, yes, I did instruct Haggar to take more time with fixing your sight than was necessary. I wanted you to know you were not the one in charge, and I hoped you would learn your place as you had a habit of... I would not say infuriating me, but getting on my nerve, on occasion. And you were not entirely displeasing to look at.” Zarkon tilts his head. “I did not mean to cause you permanent harm with the isolation cell, and I do apologize for that. I am unsure if there is anything I can do about it at this time, but if there is something I can do, I would like to assist you in getting over your problem.”

Keith finally turns around to fully face Zarkon. “Who did you talk to?”

Zarkon glances away. “Haggar said something that made me think.”

“What?” Keith asks as he takes a step towards Zarkon, forgetting all about telling Zarkon about Alfor and everything that has gone wrong.

Zarkon meets Keith’s eyes, and the sadness in them makes Keith’s heart break a little. “She said that you make me seem more like I was before Daibazaal was destroyed.”

Keith blinks.

“I am not sure if that is true or if it is something I like, but it did make me think of my approach to you as I am now, compared to what it would have been before.” Zarkon tilts his head. “There was a time I would have apologized for causing you distress, so that is what I decided to do.”

Keith takes another step towards Zarkon, opening his mouth, but to tell him he accepts the apology, that he forgave Zarkon weeks ago, he’s not sure.

Zarkon frowns. “I do not like what you have done to your hair.”

Keith laughs. “I don’t like it that much either, but it’ll grow back.” He turns more serious, deciding it’s his turn to talk.

None of it matters though, because Keith never gets a chance to even open his mouth. His eyes land on Alfor walking towards them, and the realization that Zarkon hasn’t even noticed him hits Keith hard enough to render him speechless.

Keith’s eyes widen in horror, and he turns to Zarkon, only to be faced with confusion at the sudden change in Keith’s demeanor.

“Zarkon,” Alfor calls.

Pure shock colors Zarkon’s face, and slowly, he turns. Alfor smiles and walks closer to them.

Where are Trigel and Gyrgan?

Keith should warn Zarkon about them he should —

“You don’t look well,” Alfor says as he comes to a halt a few feet from them. “You should rest.”

Zarkon doesn’t reply. He’s too shocked to say anything. Keith can feel it through the bond, the constant onslaught of  _ Alfor how why is he here how is he here he is here he is here he is not dead why is he not dead Alfor is not dead  _ and it’s enough to make even Keith dizzy.

The attack comes from the left, and Zarkon doesn’t react to it, he can’t; he can barely process the fact that yes, it’s Alfor in front of him and not a mirage or a wraith.

But Keith does react. He jumps between Zarkon and the incoming shot, raising his shield just in time to save them both, his hands protesting at the sudden impact.

It gets Zarkon moving, and as the second shot rings in the air, Zarkon scoops Keith up and raises his own shield, putting it and himself between Keith and the attack. But he doesn’t understand what’s going on. He doesn’t understand how Alfor could be there, and he doesn’t understand why he’s being attacked  _ when Alfor is right there _ .

It’s enough to come through the bond clear as day, so unlike any other emotion Keith has felt from Zarkon. And it breaks Keith’s heart; the confusion and fear and  _ but it is Alfor _ coming in waves from Zarkon. Keith didn’t think Zarkon could be afraid. It’s not something he ever considered a possibility, and as Zarkon holds Keith closer when another attack strikes his shield, Keith wants to never feel that from Zarkon again.

Keith takes the bayard from Zarkon and tears himself from Zarkon’s hold, even if the surge of panic it causes Zarkon makes him hate himself. Keith focuses on forming the blade whip and aiming it at whoever is attaching them.

Trigel.

She gets out of the way of the whip and charges at Keith, firing at him instead of Zarkon.

The turmoil Alfor’s appearance put Zarkon in only worsens at the sight of Trigel, but he has enough sense to raise his shield to keep Keith safe.

Keith steps closer to Zarkon, and when the next shot flies at them, Zarkon has an easier time shielding Keith, and Keith is faster to strike at Trigel in return.

Something catches Keith’s eye, and he shoves Zarkon back, ordering him to dodge through the bond rather than with words. Zarkon pulls Keith into his arms and moves the shield just in time to block the blast coming from their right — strong enough to knock them both down.

Zarkon gets back to his feet before Keith, and he pulls Keith up and behind his back while Keith tires to shake off the ringing in his ears.

Neither Gyrgan nor Trigel fires at them again, but they don’t have to; they’ve got Zarkon and Keith right where they want them, at the edge of the ledge to the lower level. Keith presses himself against Zarkon’s back, offering comfort as much as to comfort himself. He also nudges Zarkon’s hand — the one still clinging to Keith’s clothes — with the bayard, but Zarkon doesn’t take it.

“I never thought I would see the day you allow a child defend you with your bayard,” Alfor says like he hasn’t been gone for ten thousand years.

Zarkon doesn’t respond him. Keith isn’t sure if Alfor knows it’s because he can’t — Zarkon’s too shocked to speak — but he hopes Alfor assumes it’s just Zarkon being Zarkon and not deigning him with a reply.

Keith takes the opportunity to step between Zarkon and Alfor. “Did you follow us?”

Alfor smiles. “Of course not. That would have been pointless.”

“Did you track us, then?” Keith demands. “Did you put a tracker on me? On Shiro? Or just the shuttle?”

“I don’t need to put a tracker on my own shuttles,” Alfor replies. “Or you.”

Keith frowns, not understanding what Alfor means. It doesn’t matter; Alfor glances at Gyrgan, and before Keith realizes what happens Zarkon has him in his arms, the shield raised between them and everyone else, just in time to protect Keith from Gyrgan’s shot that throws them back.

And then they are falling.

Keith’s breath catches in his throat, as — for just a moment — he feels weightless. Then the gravity catches up and the wind hits his face. Zarkon wraps himself around Keith, holding him close.

They hit the ground after forever and sooner than Keith expected.

Keith tries to draw air into his lungs as he pushes himself up, tugging at the bond because he can’t talk, needing Zarkon to tell him he’s alright after taking the brunt of the impact. Zarkon coughs, the sound of it so pained Keith forgets all about his own injuries.

“Hey,” Keith gasps, rolling off Zarkon and hurrying to touch his face. “Breathe. You just need to breathe. You’re okay.” It’s a lie and they both know it, but it’s one they both need to believe for the moment.

Keith scans the ground for the bayard as Zarkon pushes himself up to his elbows. It’s laying near them, so Keith scrambles towards it, only to be stopped dead in his tracks when Zarkon yanks him back to his arms just as Trigel’s sword comes down where Keith’s neck just was.

Keith kicks at Trigel’s feet, his eyes catching sight of Gyrgan approaching them. He reaches for the bayard again. He has to get it before Gyrgan reaches them as well.

Keith’s fingers wrap around the bayard, his hands and fingers burning.

The alarm coming through the bond is the only warning Keith gets, and he swirls around just in time to see Gyrgan grab Zarkon’s leg and drag him away from Keith. Zarkon growls and tries to twist himself free from Gyrgan’s hold, but Gyrgan throws Zarkon to the wall of the walkway they’d fallen from.

Rage flares in Keith, and the bayard comes to live in his hand, forming into his trusted blade as he scrambles to his feet. He’d throw it at Gyrgan if Trigel didn’t put her own blade against Keith’s neck at that moment. “Stay down.”

“Go fuck yourself,” Keith replies. He throws the bayard and pain flares at the base of his skull.

He’s not conscious when he hits the ground.

 

* * *

Zarkon scrambles back from Gyrgan on reflex, the memory of their time training kicking in. The bayard striking Gyrgan’s arm, slicing through his flesh, leaving a deep gash in its wake helps,slows him down just a little.

He must get to Keith; he cannot defend himself unconscious. Zarkon makes it his goal. He can protect Keith. It is a simple task to focus on. All he has to do is keep Keith alive, who his enemy is does not matter.

But it does matter; it matters that it is Trigel who struck Keith unconscious, it matters that Gyrgan is doing everything he can to keep Zarkon on the ground. It matters that Alfor is there, alive.

It does not make sense, and yet they are all there, trying to kill Zarkon and Keith.

_ Keith _ .

Zarkon cannot fully shake his shock and distress off, but he gets enough control of himself to change tactics and go for the bayard lying abandoned on the ground rather than Keith. Gyrgan reacts faster than he used to, and though Zarkon gets a hold of the bayard, Gyrgan grabs his leg again and throws him across the ground, towards the edge of the water. He is trying to trap Zarkon, that much is clear.

Zarkon gets to his feet and takes advantage of his speed and gets out of Gyrgan’s way when he charges at him. The bayard reacts easily to Zarkon’s wishes, and Gyrgan has no chance to react before Zarkon strikes him with a mallet, sending him flying across the street and into the wall.

Trigel stops, her attention snapping to Gyrgan, worry flickering in her eyes.

But Alfor — joining them just now, having uncharacteristically allowed his friends to take the lead — only spares Gyrgan a mildly interested look. He should be angry, rushing to the aid of his friend, but he is not.

Why is he not?

“And here I thought you hide behind children these days.”

Zarkon’s ears flatten, though whether it is because of Alfor’s words or the constant dull pain of the wound Allura had inflicted upon him turning impossible to ignore, he does not know.

Alfor turns his attention to Zarkon, sparing Keith’s unconscious form a glance as he does so.

Zarkon does not allow his pain to show, though it is not as easy as it should be. Alfor is alive. His friends are alive.

How is that possible?

Perhaps they are wraiths come to haunt Zarkon just when he was beginning to dare think he could still be as happy as he once was. It is not fair, and it should not be possible. Zarkon should not be attacked by his old friends.

“It’s been a long time,” Alfor says, then sighs. “Too long.”

Zarkon is not entirely sure what he is referring to, but if he were to guess he would say Alfor is talking about the time they have been apart, or perhaps how long it is since... what happened. Zarkon does not reply. He is not sure he could.

It is  _ Alfor _ . He should not be there. He should not be so cold that he does not care that Zarkon had struck Gyrgan.

Alfor pulls out a sword, and Trigel — having joined Gyrgan, helping him back to his feet — takes a step back. Zarkon spares her a brief glance, her reaction catching him off guard.

Everything is catching him off guard at the moment, and Zarkon hates it. He is not used to being the one on defensive.

Alfor lunges at Zarkon, but the sharp whistle from above them stops him in his tracks. They all turn their attention above just in time for Gyrgan to get his face kicked by the same rebel from the settlement — the one that had dared to carry Zarkon. The rebel uses his momentum to kick Trigel down as well, and he charges at Alfor, barely avoiding his sword as he hits the ground and swipes Alfor’s feed from under him.

Zarkon can do nothing but stare at the scene before him in bafflement.

“Take a deep breath,” the rebel orders and —

Wait.

No.

Zarkon narrows his eyes, but before his mind catches up with reality, the rebel has caught him by his waist, pushing Zarkon back, and as Zarkon realizes what is about to happen he does as he was told and fills his lungs with as much air as he can.

The last thing Zarkon sees before the dark water engulfs him is Alfor’s enraged face as he scrambles after them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this!


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took a break from reading (because holy secondhand embarrassment Batman) to edit this chapter.

Shiro doesn’t understand what just happened. One moment he was talking to Lotor, the next two lieutenants were hauling Lotor away, saying something about an attack.

And then three armored officers — not Galra, their armor isn’t white — grab Shiro and drag him to one of their ships, the same kind Zarkon had found the swords in, though this one is larger.

The officers shove Shiro to sit down in the back of the ship. One of them stays with Shiro while the two others move to the front of the ship, guarding him and keeping him where he is. Shiro scowls, but he reminds himself that these are Alfor’s people so they’re not his enemies. Shiro sits quietly while they wait for... something, and the silence stretches into long, tense minutes.

The something turns out to be Alfor, Gyrgan and Trigel.

Shiro’s blood runs cold when Alfor drops an unconscious Keith on the floor. “We can leave now,” Alfor says as he steps over Keith, his voice less than happy.

Shiro scrambles to Keith’s side as the doors close. Keith is more banged up than the last time Shiro saw him, and as Shiro pushes the hair from Keith’s face one of the armored officers comes to them and snaps handcuffs on Keith, binding his hands behind his back.

“Hey!”

Alfor turns to Shiro. “He attacked us unprovoked, and friend of yours or no, I will not let that stand. He chose to side with the Galra, so we will treat him accordingly.” He nods at his officer, who cuffs Keith’s legs as well.

Keith is just starting to come to when another officer turns him to his side and cuts his claws as short as they can. Shiro is about to protest when Alfor speaks, “it’s standard procedure when imprisoning a Galra, as they tend to claw at those they perceive as their enemies when given the chance. It is a measure that keeps both us and him safe and unharmed. And with the state his hands are in I’m sure it’s for the best anyways.”

Shiro scowls, but he’s not sure how he’s supposed to argue with Alfor in that situation, or even if he should.

When he comes fully to, Keith doesn’t share Shiro’s problem. “What the hell?”

“You did try to kill us,” Alfor says, waving at Trigel patching Gyrgan up behind him.

Keith’s ears flatten and somehow he sits up so that he can glare at Alfor better. “ _I_ tried to kill _you_? Seriously? That’s — what the hell is wrong with you?”

Alfor kneels next to Keith, his expression sympathetic. “I understand you’re confused. You hit your head quite hard so I imagine your memory of what happened is somewhat inaccurate or not all there — head trauma does that to you. Do not worry, once we return to the Castleship, we will help you with it.”

Keith stares at Alfor, his tail flicking from side to side too sharply. Then he shoots forward, and the only reason he doesn’t tear Alfor’s face up with his teeth is the speed in which Alfor pulls back.

“Keith!” Shiro grabs Keith’s arm to hold him back, though he doubts there’s much Keith could do anyways — not in the state he’s in.

“Do something about that, would you?” Trigel calls from behind Alfor, and before Shiro can protest to what’s happening, one officer pulls him away from Keith while another straps a mask on the lower half of Keith’s face, and though Keith complains, his voice is muffled and he can’t open his mouth enough to speak anymore.

If Shiro wasn’t being held down, he’d take the mask off Keith. Alfor must read something on his face when he turns to Shiro since his eyes darken. “Are you going to be a problem as well?”

Shiro meets Keith’s eyes, and Keith shakes his head minutely, his eyes pleading. “No,” Shiro says, his shoulders slumping.

Alfor’s expression brightens. “Good.”

The officer lets go of Shiro and stands, and after a moment Alfor stands as well, returning to Trigel and Gyrgan, talking to them quietly.

Shiro inches closer to Keith, and though Keith is still panting heavily, his tail smacking against the floor every few seconds, his eyes are sharp and determined. Shiro pulls Keith into his arms, and no matter how much he wants to remove Keith’s restraints, he leaves them be. Keith rests his head on Shiro’s shoulder, his breathing slowing down little by little, and Shiro holds him a little tighter.

When they reach the Castleship — they arrive there a lot faster than Shiro expects — one of the officers picks Keith up, and when Shiro exits the ship behind the officer carrying Keith, the Castleship is suspiciously quiet.

“Everyone else must be asleep,” Gyrgan says.

“Go to your room,” Alfor tells Shiro. “Get some rest. We will treat Keith’s injuries and see that he is comfortable, and we can discuss the situation in the morning.”

Shiro doesn’t want to leave Keith, but the looks he gets from Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan are enough for him to know it would be unwise for him to try argue with them. Keith offers Shiro a small nod, and though it doesn’t make Shiro feel any better, he follows Alfor’s order.

But though Shiro goes to his room, he doesn’t sleep all night.

 

* * *

 

Keith gets sedated in the medical bay, and he wakes up in a cell, stripped of his armor and with a pair of pants and a long sleeved shirt folded by his side. The rough material of them would make Zarkon’s skin crawl.

Keith groans and flexes his jaw, then his arms and legs, and sits up. At least he’s not tied up anymore, and the cell is bright rather than dark. The glass wall gives him a full view of the room, which makes him a little less claustrophobic.

He feels like he’s in a fish bowl.

One of Alfor’s lackeys brings him food a few hours after Keith regained consciousness, then again later in the day, but that’s the only interaction with another person he has all day. Keith doesn’t take it personally; Alfor must be keeping Shiro and the others from him.

But three days later, the person who comes to see Keith first isn’t Shiro, but Lance. He’s carrying Keith’s dinner, a frown on his face. Keith expects Lance to scold him or even go back to his usual mean comments, but instead Lance merely gives Keith a serious nod before sliding the tray through the tray slot of Keith’s cage — one that Keith can’t even open from his side, no matter how hard he tries.

“Thanks,” Keith mutters.

Lance nods again, then walks away.

It’s odd, but Keith puts it up to Lance being mad at him for whatever story Alfor has told them. Keith sighs and turns his attention to the tray. The napkin catches his attention immediately, as it isn’t folded in the way Coran or Hunk usually folds them. Keith frowns, but rather than worrying about it, he picks up his spoon and digs into the vegetable soup he’s being served tonight. Keith thinks it’s Alfor’s way of punishing him further; the Galra do tend to like their meat, and Keith has been denied of any ever since his imprisonment.

Eventually, after finishing the juice and bread that came with the soup, Keith turns his attention to the napkin, though his intention of wiping his mouth and hands clean with it are dashed when he sees Shiro’s handwriting on it.

_Arriving on Talua today. Thace is okay but limited in his freedom. No word form Lotor or the Empire yet._

_I miss you_

Keith bites his lip and crumbles the napkin, pretending to wipe his hands on it in case Alfor or someone else is studying him through the cameras. Keith shoves the napkin into his pocket and lies on the floor, closing his eyes. He focuses inward and reaches for the bond, waiting for Zarkon to respond. Their contact has been limited, though they had checked on each other after being so violently separated, making sure they’re alright and unharmed. Zarkon had still been distressed, not only because he had lost Keith, but because of the trauma seeing his old friends had brought to the surface. And he had been annoyed, but Keith hadn’t been able to pinpoint the exact reason for that.

Keith’s heart aches to be with Zarkon, to soothe him and hold him, and make sure Zarkon knows he doesn’t have to go through it all alone. But as it is Keith can’t do any of that; Zarkon is distant in a way he rarely is, even when he’s not busy. And he’s busy a lot these days.

Keith lets Zarkon be, even if he keeps his own shields down so that Zarkon can always reach him. Keith understands Zarkon has an empire to care for and that keeping busy is something like a coping mechanism for him.

It takes a while for Zarkon to react to Keith’s constant poking, but eventually he gives Keith his attention. Keith focuses on trying to get Zarkon to find him, to come and get him, but he’s not sure how successful he is in his attempt. Zarkon lingers at the edges of Keith’s mind for the rest of the evening, not really communicating with him, but just being there as a comforting presence.

Keith likes having Zarkon back in his mind, though there’s a hesitation to their communication that hasn’t been there before. Keith had torn the front of their relationship down and revealed the awful reality beneath, and they can’t throw a cover over it anymore. They just have to figure out how to deal with it, and hopefully replace the bad with good.

It still shocks Keith that Zarkon had been the one to start mending their relationship. It still shocks Keith that Zarkon had acknowledged and apologized for what had happened, and even admitted that Keith had been right in some of his accusations. Keith has been considering it — he has the time for it now — and he has come to the conclusion that since Zarkon had been brave enough to take the first step, Keith needs to step forward as well, though he’s not sure how he’s supposed to do that. Perhaps he could admit that he wouldn’t have kissed Zarkon if it wasn’t for Zarkon threatening him — though that’s something Zarkon should apologize for as well — despite Zarkon telling Keith he wanted a willing partner, not one that was coerced or unwilling in any way.

Keith falls asleep on the floor of his cell, with Zarkon there, absently brushing against his mind every now and again, spreading warmth through Keith’s thoughts.

 

* * *

 

“Did you get the message to him?” Shiro asks as soon as Lance enters his room.

Lance nods. “Why would he need to know where we are, though? That’s what I don’t get.”

Shiro shakes his head. “Don’t worry about it. And thank you.”

“Now what?” Lance asks.

Shiro sighs. “Now we figure out a way for you to actually talk to Keith.”

“Why me? He’d probably rather talk to anyone else.”

“And that’s exactly what we have to count on everyone else thinking,” Shiro replies. “Did you get Pidge to hack the cameras yet?”

Lance crosses his arms and sits at Shiro’s table. “Yeah, but she’s not happy about it, or the fact that we’re not giving her an explanation. We’ll need to make it up to her.”

“We’ll do that once we’ve got a clear picture of what’s going on,” Shiro promises. “Right now we need to hear what Keith has to say. Something’s... off here.”

Lance makes an agreeing noise, his frown turning thoughtful.

Shiro sits on his bed, trying to resist the urge to run his hands through his hair. Trigel had been the one to refuse Shiro access to Keith, and though Shiro has tried to go see Keith, no one, not even Allura, has allowed it. They’d even changed the codes to the doors of the room Keith’s cell is in so that Shiro can’t get in.

It’s only served to make Shiro suspicious as to what’s going on, no matter how much Alfor tells him that it’s not because he doesn’t want Shiro to have contact with Keith, it’s a punishment for Keith because Keith would love nothing more than to see Shiro.

After a long while Shiro pushes himself up to his feet again. “I need to go down to the planet. Gyrgan wants to ask the Rebellion about their operations and he insisted I go down there with him.”

“Good luck,” Lance says, then leaves the room to give Shiro some space to get ready.

Shiro puts his armor on and mentally prepares himself, not because he anticipates trouble, but because he has been too on edge to be a good impression on people he might need to impress in that moment. He has to appear like the leader of Voltron, not like a concerned boyfriend.

Once Shiro feels up to it, he exits his room and joins Gyrgan on the bridge. Gyrgan takes care of plotting their course and informing the Rebellion of their arrival, so there’s little for Shiro to do there, but he likes being a part of the proceedings.

It doesn’t take long for Gyrgan to tell Shiro they need to get going, and Shiro nods, and follows Gyrgan to a shuttle. Gyrgan flies them down to the planet, asking Shiro about the Rebellion as they go. Shiro tells him as much as he can; how they’d met, about Matt and Sam, how the Rebellion operates and how they work together, sharing information and missions when it suits them.

“They are brave to oppose the Galra,” Gyrgan observes. “We used to win a lot of conflicts by bringing Zarkon in. People thought twice before starting a fight with the Galra even back then.”

“This must be hard for you,” Shiro says, and when Gyrgan glances at him he elaborates, “fighting Zarkon and everything that’s happened. You used to be friends.”

Gyrgan grits his teeth, but his expression remains unchanged as he navigates them towards the planet. “It must be done,” he says eventually.

Shiro nods, not knowing how else to respond.

They land, and Gyrgan leads Shiro out of the shuttle. “Where are they?” He asks, looking around the landing platform.

Shiro heads towards the exit of the landing platform. “They have a base in the city. Matt is supposed to be waiting for us in the terminal, and he’s going to take us there.”

Gyrgan follows Shiro into the busy terminal where they sign themselves in with a four armed clerk before heading off to find Matt. He’s right where he said he’d be, by the shop near the exit. Shiro’s mood brightens at the sight of Matt, and Matt smiles at him as well.

Shiro introduces Gyrgan to Matt, and after they exchange hello’s, they follow Matt out of the terminal and into the hustle of the streets. Matt leads them to an inconspicuous building, then to the third floor.

“We’re trying to keep a low profile,” Matt says. “Sallo’s really particular about it.”

“That’s understandable,” Gyrgan offers.

Matt takes them to the last door on the right and identifies himself and his companions, and door opens, allowing them access.

The room they step into is a foyer of an apartment that has been converted into a sort of a safe house with less comfortable furniture and several tables with pads and papers and computers scattered around. Shiro and Gyrgan follow Matt deeper into the apartment, and Shiro tries to discreetly take everything in as they walk.

Sallo is there, and she’s shorter than Shiro thought, her sea green scales shining more brightly in person than they do on screen. The soft looking deep blue feathers running from her forehead to her neck sway slightly in the breeze of the air conditioner.

“You’re late,” Sallo says, narrowing her eyes.

“Sorry, traffic at the landing platform was horrible,” Shiro replies.

Sallo blinks, then rounds the table and approaches them, and shakes Gyrgan’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“Likewise,” Gyrgan says.

Sallo waves Shiro and Gyrgan to sit at the chairs by the neatly arranged table with her computer. “What can I do for you?” She asks as she returns to her own chair behind the table.

“It has been a while since we were in this reality,” Gyrgan starts, offering Sallo a brief smile. “We are not sure of how things operate these days, and while we are grateful for any assistance we receive in our attempt to fix the state the universe has fallen into, you must understand our wariness as well — one of your own did just assist Zarkon in escaping us.”

Shiro doesn’t frown, but he does share a brief look with Matt. Alfor had brought the matter of Zoshtor saving Zarkon — again, not that Shiro mentioned it — and Shiro had asked Matt about it, but beyond telling Shiro that Zoshtor is a peculiar if a pleasant person to be around, Matt couldn’t tell him anything. Shiro supposes he shouldn’t be surprised Gyrgan is bringing him up with Sallo now; considering what had happened with Zarkon, Alfor, Trigel and Gyrgan must be particularly cautious in who they trust.

Sallo sighs. “We have not heard from him in weeks, but that is not unusual. We don’t condone his actions, and as soon as he resurfaces, he will face harsh disciplinary actions.”

“We would like to question him,” Gyrgan says. “In case he is a Galra spy.”

“He is not Galra,” Sallo replies.

Gyrgan shakes his head. “It is an old Galran tactic to use locals or other people who can blend in with their target group as spies. He might not be Galra, but that does not mean he isn’t working for them.”

Sallo considers it for a moment. “I will have to consult the other leaders before I can say if we will allow you to have him, but I imagine it can be arranged.”

“That’s all we ask for,” Gyrgan says. “I would also like to go through the basics of how you operate — just so that we know when it’s best for us to ask you for help. We don’t need your codes or contacts or anything, just some basic information on who answers to who and what your typical missions are like, if that is all right. Allura has already told us a lot, but we feel it’s best to hear from you as well.”

Sallo glances at her computer, tapping something on it and waiting for a moment before turning to Gyrgan. “I can do that.”

Gyrgan bows his head minutely before turning to Shiro. “I’m sure you’d rather be spending time with your friend.”

Shiro would, but he doesn’t want to leave either. Matt clears his throat, and Shiro turns to him. “Dad would probably want to say hi.”

Shiro relaxes and nods. “Okay.” He turns to Gyrgan as he stands. “Let me know when you’re ready to go.”

“I will,” Gyrgan promises.

With that, Shiro follows Matt to the kitchen at the other end of the apartment. It’s not quite like Earth kitchens — there is no over or a microwave, but there is a big round, glass cylinder in the middle of the room with all sorts of food inside it, and a small round table with Sam sitting by it, a bowl of soup in front of him, and his nose in a pad.

Sam looks better than the last time Shiro saw him; there’s light in his eyes, and someone has cut his hair. His clothes are comfortable and well maintained, and he’s lost the pallor of someone who hasn’t seen natural light for nearly two years. He looks healthier, less starved.

Less haunted by the horrors he’d gone through.

“Dad,” Matt says when them entering the room doesn’t catch Sam’s attention.

Sam looks up, his surprise turning to a wide smile at the sight of his son and Shiro. “You’re here already.”

Matt sighs as he makes his way to the glass cylinder filled with food. “He’s been here for almost half an hour by now.”

Shiro joins Sam at the table. “It’s fine, I was busy with Sallo and Gyrgan.”

Sam sets his pad down and gives Shiro his full attention. “I heard about that. Are they really the original Paladins? How can that be?”

Shiro shrugs, and accepts the tea cup and slice of pie Matt offers him. “They said they went through the same rift that made Zarkon immortal — or whatever he is — but that since they were protected by a ship, they didn’t suffer the full effects of the rift. They’ve been in another reality trying to come back, and they have a way of combating the Galra.”

Matt frowns. “The ships that have been attacking the Galra. And everyone else, for that matter.”

“They apologized for that. Alfor said their operatives hadn’t known we’re on their side,” Shiro replies.

“I don’t know.” Matt shares a look with Sam. “It just sounds a little sketchy.”

“You’re starting to sound like Keith.” Shiro sips his tea — a little more lukewarm than he’d prefer, but still perfectly drinkable.

“How is Keith dealing with this?” Sam asks. “He seemed rather partial to the Galra.”

Shiro groans. “He tried to kill Alfor a few days ago, so he’s in a cell right now.”

“He did what now?” Matt stares at Shiro with wide eyes, as does Sam.

“We got into some trouble with Lotor — long story — and Zarkon showed up to rescue us, and Keith ended up talking to him. Then Alfor showed up and something happened there, and now Keith is in a cell for trying to kill him.” Shiro sighs. “I haven’t been able to ask Keith about his side of the events.”

“Why?” Sam asks, leaning towards Shiro minutely.

“Alfor won’t let me see him. He says it’s because Keith wants to see me, so it’s a punishment for Keith and not him trying to keep me from him.”

Matt and Sam share a dubious look.

“Apparently it’s an effective punishment for a Galra,” Shiro adds, though he’s not sure why he’s justifying Alfor’s decision to keep him and Keith apart.

“Just don’t get caught up in the idea that just because they are the original Paladins and they say they’re on our side, you should follow them blindly. People have flaws, and whatever happened between them and Zarkon ten thousand years ago must have left scars. I’d hope those wounds have healed rather than festered in the past centuries, but we can’t be sure of that.” Sam gives Shiro a pointed look.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Shiro promises, and he means it.

Their topics shift to how Sam has been — “very well, now that I get sunlight and real food” — and the little projects he and Matt have going on. Gyrgan comes to get Shiro too soon, and he leaves the Holts with a promise to be in touch more regularly.

 

* * *

 

Keith isn’t surprised to see Alfor, he’s more surprised it took him so many days to come see him. Keith leans on the bed, refusing to give Alfor the satisfaction of having Keith react to his presence. If it bothers Alfor, he doesn’t show it. He comes to stand in front of Keith’s cell, his eyes sharp as he studies Keith.

“I would like to have a conversation with you,” Alfor says.

“The feeling’s not mutual,” Keith replies.

Alfor hums, his expression annoyingly understanding. “I can see why that would be, but I would like to remedy that.”

Keith gives Alfor the most unimpressed expression he can. “What makes you think I’m interested in that.”

Alfor raises his shoulders lightly. “You want out of this cell, correct? I would be inclined to let a friend out.”

“I don’t want you to be my friend,” Keith says, his ears flattening. “You left Zarkon to fend for himself when he needed you the most because, what? He disagreed with you? You left him, when you _knew_ the rift was affecting him. He needed you and you left him. Why the fuck would anyone want to be your friend?”

“I think you —“

“If you say I don’t know what happened I am going to find a way to punch you,” Keith cuts in. “Don’t lie to me, and don’t bother trying to manipulate me.”

Alfor studies Keith for a moment, then he nods. “Allura tells me you are an orphan, is that true?”

“Why do you care?”

“You also looked like a human when you came to my ship, correct?” Alfor continues like Keith hadn’t interrupted him.

Keith shrugs. “It’s not a secret.”

“I wonder, when did that witch of Zarkon’s — Haggar, is it? — discover you are part Galra?”

Keith frowns. Zarkon shifts against his mind, wary and tense, but keeping to the edges of Keith’s thoughts. So Keith lies, “not long. It’s not like she had to try and go looking for something to be off in my genes, it’s all right there.”

“Funny how the humans never found out about it, then,” Alfor says, his eyes too sharp.

Keith’s tail twitches. “Haggar’s got better tech.”

Alfor tilts his head. “And how long after she discovered you are part Galra did she discover you are part Altean as well? Your markings are quite striking, by the way. You should be proud.”

Keith bites his tongue to keep his expression from shifting, and he doesn’t give Alfor a response about his markings.

“Did she say anything else about your genes?”

Keith shakes his head. “No, why?”

Alfor smiles like he’d just won something. “We ran some tests on you — just to be sure you are healthy, no need to pull that face — and I dare say I know more about you than Haggar does.”

Keith doubts it, but he keeps it to himself. Alfor keeps looking at Keith like he expects Keith to ask what he had found, but Keith refuses to do so. He won’t give Alfor the satisfaction.

Alfor’s expression sours minutely after it becomes clear Keith won’t ask him what he’d found. “You are such a difficult person. I don’t understand what Zarkon sees in you — besides a pretty face to have in his bed.”

Keith smiles pleasantly and stands, and approaches the glass. “Let me be very clear; I don’t care whatever it is you think you’ve got on me that I don’t know about. I don’t want to be your friend, and as far as my relationship with Zarkon is concerned, you can say whatever degrading and nasty things you want, but if you think it’s going to affect me in any way, you’re wasting your time.” Keith stops at the glass, his ears flattening, and he drops his smile.

Alfor keeps a close eye on Keith, the set of his shoulders just a bit too tense.

“And one more thing to add to the long list you apparently have on me,” Keith starts, leaning closer to the glass and Alfor. “The biggest difference between me and Zarkon? I don’t have a sentimental attachment to you, so you can trust that I mean this: I am going to end you, and there’s nothing that’s going to stop me from doing that.”

Just to demonstrate his point, Keith drives his fist into the glass as hard as he can, even if it leaves his hand thrumming with pain.

And Alfor starts back.

Keith narrows his eyes. Did he imagine the flash of fear passing Alfor’s face? He must have. He’d certainly like it if he was able to scare Alfor, but he doubts he could do that.

After a few seconds, Alfor sighs, pretending to be sad. “I’m sorry you feel that way. Do let me know when you change your mind.”

Keith doesn’t bother telling Alfor that’ll never happen, and after a moment Alfor leaves the room without another word.

 

* * *

 

Zarkon tugs at the bond, then disappears for an hour or two and does it again. If Keith tugs back, Zarkon sometimes stays for a few minutes to assure Keith that everything is alright.

It takes Keith a day to realize that Zarkon isn’t trying to get his attention, but to locate him across the space like he’d done so long ago, before they’d known each other. Keith relaxes into it, allowing Zarkon to track him for whatever reason he’s doing it for.

It’s during one of those moments when Lance enters the room, carrying Keith’s breakfast and a determined, hard look on his face. Keith raises an eyebrow, but he keeps most of his focus on Zarkon. Lance pushes the tray through the tray slot, but rather than leaving, he stays put.

“Um. Hi?” Keith’s ears turn forward as he shifts more of his attention to Lance.

“Pidge hacked the cameras,” Lance starts, crossing his arms. “So what really happened between you and Alfor?”

Keith blinks. “Pidge...” he shakes himself, nudging Zarkon to get him to give him a moment. “I was talking to Zarkon when Alfor showed up. Then Trigel started shooting at us along with Gyrgan. Yes, I did attack them, but they started it. They tried to kill us, I was defending us. Whatever they’re saying happened isn’t true.”

Lance’s frown deepens. “I figured as much.”

“Do you think they’ll let me out soon?” Keith asks, shifting towards Lance.

Lance shakes his head. “Alfor doesn’t even want to let any of us near you. I get to come because me, Shiro, Hunk, and the others kept saying how little we like each other.” Lance smiles ruefully. “Guess it’s a good thing we never became good friends.”

Keith bites his lip. “I did get kidnapped, so we haven’t had the time for that.”

Lance’s smile turns more sincere and he nods. “Yeah, that must be it.”

Keith nods as well.

“We’re working on a way to keep you updated on what’s going on,” Lance says, growing more serious again. “And on a way to get you out. So hold tight, we’re gonna figure this out soon.”

Keith swallows around the lump in his throat and nods. “Thanks.”

“We’re going to stop by at a mall. Trigel wants to go buy something, so we’re all going down there for time off. Do you need anything? Nothing big, obviously, but if there’s a message you want us to send someone we can probably do that from the station. We’re not sure, but we — Shiro, me, and Thace — think Alfor’s tapped the comm lines here,” Lance says.

Keith frowns, thinking it over. “If you get my pad — Shiro knows where it is — get Haala’s info from it and tell him I’m okay, but I’ve been imprisoned. I was supposed to talk to him yesterday and he’s probably plotting an assault on you and my murder by now.”

Lance nods. “We’ll do that.”

Lance waits while Keith finishes his breakfast, telling him about what’s been going on, of Shiro going to meet the Rebellion with Gyrgan, and what Alfor says happened with Zarkon after Keith was knocked out. When Lance is done talking, Keith pushes the tray back through the tray slot, already deep in thought.

After Lance leaves the room, Keith returns his attention to Zarkon, trying to tell him of what he just learned.

 

* * *

 

Lotor does not sigh, but it is close. Ever since the fiasco of his brief attempt at cooperation with Shiro and Keith, his father has refused to allow him to leave the Central Command. He had even ordered Lotor’s generals to join them.

Lotor cannot remember the last time he spent so much time there, but he is ready to get going again.

“If no one else is going to say it, I will.” Zethrid looks around the others slumped in their own seats in the rec room they had commandeered. “This sucks.”

“Yeah,” Ezor sighs.

“You need to be more patient,” Acxa says, glancing at Lotor. “There must be a good reason for us being here.”

Lotor closes his eyes for a few ticks, then he straightens his back and gives his generals his best disappointed face that is, unfortunately, not yet quite as effective as his father’s. “The situation is what it is. Try to make the best of it and stop complaining. Unless you want word of your displeasure reach Father.”

It shuts everyone up, just as Lotor suspected it would. He does not enjoy using his father as a threat among his generals, but sometimes it is necessary; they are bound to be under supervision, and Lotor for one does not need more grievance from his father.

As if summoned, Lotor’s father enters the room. The generals scramble to their feet and as always, Kova purrs and abandons Narti in favor of rushing to Zarkon’s feet, trying in vain to get his attention. And as always, Kova keeps it up for a dobash at most before giving up to return to Narti.

“Can we help you with something?” Lotor asks, trying his best not to let his annoyance of being trapped on the ship drip into his voice.

“Yes,” his father replies, catching Lotor by surprise.

“Really?” Lotor clears his throat, scolding himself for allowing his surprise to show. “What is it?”

“You have always wanted to be useful, this is your chance,” Zarkon says, then he frowns, but not at Lotor as much as whatever thought passes his mind. “Keith has been imprisoned on the Castleship, and I require someone to go fetch him. Thace is there, but I believe he is facing opposition he is not prepared for.”

Lotor stands, then clasps his hands behind his back to keep himself from fidgeting. “The Castleship? That place is not exactly easy to get to.”

“You always insist this is the kind of thing you do well, and that I should utilize that skill,” his father says in that too pleasant tone that never brings any good with it.

Lotor grits his teeth. “I _can_ do it, I am just saying it won’t be easy.”

Zarkon studies Lotor for a tick, then he sighs and takes a step towards Lotor.

Lotor almost steps back, but he suppresses that instinct.

“I am quite familiar with how the Castleship operates and with its defenses, and I trust you are capable enough to spot anything that has been changed and adapt to that,” Zarkon says.

Lotor glances at his generals, at their wary yet excited expressions, and inclines his head. “We can do that.”

“Then I expect you to be on the bridge in two varga so that we may go through the situation and what we already know of our enemy and the Castleship.” Zarkon levels Lotor with a look that tells Lotor he better be there on time and not a tick late or he’ll be in trouble the likes of which he’s never been in before turning on his heels and leaving the room.

The silence that follows Zarkon’s departure is deafening. Eventually Ezor shifts and clears her throat. “So. He doesn’t seem as scary as I always thought.”

Lotor’s shoulders relax minutely. “That is because he was being purposefully nice.”

“That was nice?” Zethrid tilts her head. “What’s angry like, then?”

Lotor turns to her, his expression severe. “People die when he gets angry.”

“Kind of like when you get angry, then,” Acxa injects, sparing Zethrid a brief smile. Narti cocks her head, and Ezor grins at her. They all know it’s a joke as Lotor does not get homicidal when he is angry — at least not often — and one Lotor is willing to let pass this time around.

Lotor straightens up. “The best thing for us to do now is come up with a preliminary plan for infiltrating the Castleship. We can worry about everything else later.”

The others turn serious, and soon they are all sitting down and coming up with ideas. Lotor keeps a close eye on the time the whole time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you liked this!


	34. Chapter 34

Assuring Thace that Keith is alright is becoming harder and harder, but Shiro tries — mostly to keep peace between Thace and Alfor. He even goes as far as having Thace talk directly to Lance, who has thus far been the only one allowed to see Keith.

Alfor allowing his officers to fully come live on the Castleship does little to ease anyone’s mood, except Allura’s, who is more than happy to have the people she’d made friends with there, and Coran’s, who is near tears at the prospect of having the Castleship full of Alteans again. Shiro doesn’t blame Coran for it; Coran has believed he and Allura are the last Alteans alive, and while that is true in their universe, seeing his own kind – even if they’re from another reality — is understandably an emotional experience for him.

Still, it puts Lance on edge, and Shiro along with him. Hunk and Pidge aren’t quite so bothered by their presence, but they don’t share Coran’s joy either. In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, Thace openly flattens his ears and declines the invitation to come and greet their new guests, much to Alfor’s disappointment.

Shiro goes to meet the Alteans, mostly to see who the people that are going to be living with them are.

“We intend to strike at a Galra occupied planet soon,” Alfor tells Shiro. “The people there deserve to live free, and we should find out how Voltron fits into our ways.”

Shiro nods. “That makes sense. I’ll let the others know about it so that they’ll know to be ready for it.”

“Do that, please.” Alfor offers Shiro a pleasant smile before turning his attention to his people.

Shiro waits until Alfor is engaged in a conversation with his officers before making his way to Lance, Hunk and Pidge.

“He wants to attack the Galra.”

“So do we,” Pidge points out. “That’s literally what we’re here to do.”

“I’ll let Keith know about it,” Lance promises without prompting.

Hunk sighs. “Do we have to upset him by telling him about it?”

“He has the right to know,” Shiro says. “He’s a part of our team.”

“I suppose,” Hunk says. “But still, it’s gonna upset him.”

Shiro turns to observe the Alteans in their starkly white armors with either silvery blue or gold detailing, depending on the person.

It bothers Shiro to have them there. They have attacked Voltron, even the Castleship, not to mention several Rebellion ships. Though Shiro understands that the Castleship is strictly speaking Alfor’s, he wishes Alfor had at least asked them if they were okay with the Alteans coming to live onboard, not simply stop by almost daily, after all of that.

“We’ll be working with them on the mission,” Shiro says, receiving curious glances from his friends. “Just be ready for that. Hopefully someone will tell us how the mission will play out.”

Luckily, Alfor does tell them what he expects from the mission, and how exactly he wants it to go. Shiro has no problems with the plan, but he doesn’t stop Lance from telling Keith where they’re going either — just in case. Shiro knows that Keith will get the message to Zarkon, and if it was a purely Galran settlement they were taking on he wouldn’t care so much, but there are innocent people down there, and Alfor’s people have a history of not caring about that if they get in their way.

If the Galra know an enemy is coming, they can concentrate the fight above the planet or prepare a defense that most likely will not involve civilians anywhere near them for convenience alone. Or maybe they’ll pack all the civilians in one place and use them as a shield, and though that would be the worst case scenario, at least Shiro and the others could see the civilians and avoid them.

Few days later they’re heading to the planet, Shiro and the Paladins in their Lions, Alfor, Trigel, and Gyrgan with their army.

But the Galra aren’t there.

Shiro breathes a sigh of relief, but Alfor gets angry as he orders everyone to land. Shiro follows Alfor’s example and steps out of his Lion, and not long after the others follow him.

“They’re gone,” Allura says, frowning.

Shiro scans the rocky city they’re in for civilians, but all he sees is the proof that the Galra had left fast, leaving equipment and nonessential things lying around. But there are no people, and it bothers Shiro.

“Spread out and find them,” he orders, and all the Paladins except for Allura move to do just that. Shiro stops and turns to Allura. “Allura?”

She looks to her father, her expression conflicted. “I think I’ll stay here.”

Shiro nods and follows the others. They find the natives near the edges of the city, terrified but unharmed. They tell the Paladins the Galra had left in a hurry that morning, and the civilians had escaped them from the city the moment they had realized the Galra weren’t paying attention to them.

With a heavy sigh, Shiro leads his team back to Alfor. The natives decide to remain hidden while they have strangers on their planet, and Shiro doesn’t push them to do otherwise. Alfor isn’t happy to hear it, but Trigel says it’s understandable after the Galra occupation, so Alfor lets it go.

They return to the Castleship, confused as to why the Galra had left so abruptly — well, everyone but Shiro is confused — and displeased with the situation.

“I think we should try somewhere else,” Trigel says as she, Gyrgan, Alfor, Allura, and Shiro walk up to each other in the hangar where Alfor’s people are unloading their ships. They had taken some readings and collected pieces of the Galra tech left behind, but Shiro isn’t sure what for.

“I’ll start scanning for locations,” Gyrgan offers.

“I’m more interested in why the Galra left,” Alfor says thoughtfully.

Shiro keeps his mouth shut, but Allura nods in agreement with her father.

“Perhaps — “ Trigel swirls around, scanning the hangar with narrowed eyes.

Gyrgan frowns. “What is it?”

Slowly, Trigel turns to face the others again. “It’s nothing. Perhaps the Galra have adjusted their sensors to detect us or Voltron. That could have given them enough of a warning.”

“I don’t think that is it, You know as well as I do that the Galra do not run from an enemy,” Alfor says, but he doesn’t offer an alternative either.

“Well,” Shiro says, standing a little straighter. “I’m going to go see if Pidge picked anything strange up. Maybe that’ll offer some answers.”

“That would be very helpful, thank you,” Alfor says, offering Shiro a brief nod.

As he goes, Shiro finds Lance’s gaze across the room, giving him a minute nod, and Lance gives him one in return. They’ll talk later and agree on what to tell Keith about their day.

 

* * *

“Can you promise me he is unharmed?” Thace asks as he sets his tea cup down on the kitchen counter, frowning at Shiro.

Shiro grits his teeth. “I haven’t seen Keith in days so I can’t tell you I’ve seen him with my own eyes, but Lance has and he says Keith is fine, and I trust him. He’d tell us if something was wrong with Keith.”

Thace doesn’t look happy, so Shiro forces his own pose to relax. “He’ll be fine. Keith knows how to take care of himself. He’s survived worse than what he’s going through now.”

“Being alone is a horrible thing to a Galra,” Thace replies.

Shiro bites his lip, glancing around the kitchen. Keith trusts Thace, despite everything, and so does Zarkon, he has to: he sent Thace of all people to protect Keith.

And it’s not Shiro’s place to tell Thace the truth. It’s Keith’s decision. Or Zarkon’s, but since he’s not here, Shiro supposes it’s Keith’s.

“Keith has gone through enough trauma with isolation,” Thace continues, seemingly oblivious to the conflict raging inside Shiro. “We must help him. We cannot just leave him alone in a cell.”

“We’re working on a way to get him out of there as soon as possible. And he’s not alone, exactly,” Shiro says before Thace can decide to break Keith out of the cell and cause more harm than good by doing so.

Thace levels Shiro with a demanding look. “What do you mean?”

Shiro sighs and motions for Thace to sit at the table. Thace does so, albeit hesitantly, and Shiro joins him at the table. “I need you to understand that what I’m about to tell you is something I shouldn’t even be telling you.”

Thace inclines his head.

Shiro taps his fingers against the table, thinking his words over. When he’s ready to talk, he leans closer to Thace, who leans closer to him in return, his ears perking with curiosity “Keith and Zarkon... they have a way of communicating that Alfor can’t detect,” Shiro whispers. “Keith isn’t alone.”

Thace’s eyes widen, but he doesn’t say anything.

Shiro leans back. “It’s nothing to worry about. Keith is fine,” he says louder.

Thace inclines his head. “I suppose.”

The door opens, silencing them both. Hunk enters the room, rubbing his eyes and groaning. “I never thought there’s such a thing as too much programming, but here we are.”

“Pidge?” Shiro asks.

Hunk shakes his head. “Trigel. She’s got this idea that we need to modify all the shields, cameras and weaponry, and Alfor’s going along with it, and me and Pidge got dragged into it. I think Pidge is having fun, but my head hurts.”

Shiro smiles. “You’ll live.”

“But I won’t enjoy it,” Hunk grumbles and starts going through the cabinets for something to eat. Shiro is about to turn his attention back to Thace when the glass Hunk has already put on the counter clinks.

Hunk turns and frowns. “Did the floor tremble? Alfor said the floor might tremble when they test some stuff.”

“I did not feel anything,” Thace says, and since he’s the most sensitive to that kind of things in their group, Shiro believes him.

“Maybe you bumped into the counter?” Shiro suggests after a second.

“Yeah, maybe. I might need a nap,” Hunk replies. “A really really long one.”

Shiro nods, satisfied with the solution, and returns to his late lunch. Later he takes Thace’s offer for sparring, and though he doesn’t quite win, Thace poses a good challenge for Shiro and he’ll take any chance to spar with a real person rather than the Gladiator. Thace even teaches Shiro a few simple Galran exercise routines that leave Shiro slightly more out of breath than he’s used to, but ones he intends to integrate into his own workout routine.

 

* * *

The strange noises continue, and Trigel tracks their source down, her hearing sharper than anyone else’s in the Castleship — well, maybe save for the Galra, but they don’t matter. The noises, always soft, barely there and gone before Trigel can fully locate them, are always just out of her reach, and it frustrates her.

A glass clinks here, a fabric rustles there, and Trigel follows.

She may not be a predator like the Galra are, but she is a hunter and a scientist; she can track a pray just fine, and finding things that don’t want to be found is what she’s good at — just like she’s excellent at making new discoveries.

Alfor laughs at her insistence to find the source of the strange noises, but Trigel doesn’t let that stop her. Let Alfor focus on the Galra and Zarkon and Keith locked in his cell, Trigel can focus on more immediate matters.

So when she hears a strange sound in the night, she follows it, refusing to let the mystery to go unsolved.

 

* * *

Keith wakes up to a Zarkon tugging at the bond, not really urgent, but wanting Keith’s attention nonetheless. Keith grumbles and nudges Zarkon tiredly. Zarkon curls around Keith’s mind and it’s unusual — not Zarkon wanting Keith’s attention, but him waking Keith up just to telepathically cuddle — but sweet, and Keith laughs before pushing his mind against Zarkon’s, wrapping himself around Zarkon as much as Zarkon is wrapping himself around Keith.

After a moment, Zarkon allows Keith feel his loneliness. Keith curls in on himself under his thin covers and lets Zarkon feel his own similar feelings, along with the anxiety being trapped is causing Keith.

Zarkon assures Keith the situation won’t last for long, and Keith wants to believe him so bad, even if he doesn’t believe Alfor will ever let him out again.

There’s still comfort in Zarkon’s certainty that Keith will be free soon.

Keith drifts back to sleep, and when he wakes up, it’s not Lance bringing him his breakfast, but Alfor.

Keith frowns and flattens his ears, and Alfor smiles. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

“Am I supposed to believe that?” Keith replies.

Alfor tilts his head, but his smile doesn’t fade. “And that is why you are still in this cell. There is no trust in you.”

“I have trust,” Keith shoots back. “Just not for you. I trust Zarkon, I trust Shiro, hell, I even trust Kolivan, but I don’t trust  _ you _ .”

Alfor sighs as he slides the tray to Keith. “Zarkon doesn’t deserve your trust.”

“He’s earned it,” Keith says, not touching the tray. “He gave me a reason to trust him, he worked to earn it. You haven’t done anything but lie and manipulate my friends and I don’t trust you.”

Alfor crosses his arms, his eyes fixed on Keith. “I’m curious, how _did_ Zarkon earn such loyalty? I doubt it’s just the sex, good as it may be, it cannot be that good.”

Keith would argue, but Alfor is studying his with too sharp eyes, waiting for him to react, to tell him how he’s wrong, anything. So Keith stays silent and keeps his expression as neutral as he can, but he can’t stop his ears from flattening or his tail from smacking against the covers in anger.

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” Alfor says.

“No, I don’t think I will.” Keith stretches back down on the too narrow bunk, closing his eyes. Zarkon brushes against his thoughts, pride and amusement dripping through the contact.

“Why?” Alfor asks, annoyance dripping into his voice.

_ He could learn patience from you _ , Keith thinks at Zarkon, trying to be as clear as he can. Zarkon’s amusement only grows, and Keith knows he’s got the message through.

Keith sighs and turns to face Alfor, raising an unimpressed eyebrow. “Do you really think I spent over a year with Zarkon and didn’t learn how to not be manipulated? You really think I’m gonna just tell you everything you want to know just because you put on the shittiest attempt at manipulation I’ve ever seen?”

Alfor scowls. “I don’t manipulate.”

Keith laughs. “Just go fuck yourself and leave me alone. You’re not getting anything out of me.”

Keith closes his eyes again, and he ignores Alfor until he leaves minutes later.

 

* * *

The gentle knock on the glass of Keith’s cell startles him. He’s usually great at hearing people approaching his quiet cell, but now... Keith frowns when he doesn’t see anyone. Is he starting to hallucinate again?

The mere idea makes Keith’s heart rate spike. He can’t go through that again. He can’t. It was hell when he couldn’t see, and now —

He lets out a relieved breath when Ezor materializes in front of him.

“Your hair is weird,” she says, smiling.

Keith smiles as well. “So I’ve heard.” He frowns. “How did you get here?”

“The Galra settlement your new friends —“

“They’re not my friends.”

“ _ —  _ attacked? I sneaked on board one of their ships. I think I’ve broken a record for longest time being invisible. It’s a lot harder than people think; I have to move slowly and concentrate way too much.”

“Why are you here?” Keith asks, walking up to the glass and Ezor.

Ezor stands a little straighter. “The Emperor ordered Lotor and us to help, so we’re helping. I was the best qualified for this job.”

“And what is your job?”

Ezor’s smile turns wicked. “Busting you out.”

Before Keith has a chance to fully process what’s happening, Ezor has tapped the code to his cell door in, and she’s pulling him out. Now Keith knows why Zarkon was so sure that Keith would be free soon.

Ezor takes Keith’s hand and guides him out of the room Keith had been forced to call home for weeks, and into the corridor. There is no one there, and Keith frowns.

“They’re in a meeting,” Ezor whispers. “We need to watch out for the guards though.”

Keith lets Ezor take care of getting them out of the corridors and into safety. They avoid the guards they run into by hiding in rooms and around corners, and taking other routes when they have to.

Eventually, after a long and nerve-wrecking journey, they get to the hangar without being spotted.

“Now what?” Keith asks.

Ezor looks around. “Um, we steal a ship? Acxa and Zethrid are ready to offer backup. Narti’s in another ship that we need to reach so that she can take us to Lotor. It’s just up to us to make it there.”

Keith inclines his head, considering the situation. He doesn’t know how to pilot one of the Altean’s ships, but if they’re anything like the shuttles, he thinks he can figure it out before anyone gets there. He doesn’t kid himself into thinking that they could get into one of these ships without raising some kind of alarm, though. They’re bound to be rigged in some way.

“We’re taking one of our shuttles,” Keith decides. It’s the best chance they have to get away without being immediately detected.

Ezor follows Keith’s lead without complaint. She trusts him to know what he’s doing, and under normal circumstances Keith might stop to ask her why, but as it is he simply accepts it as a fact and hurries towards the familiar shuttles.

Keith opens the door to the first shuttle they reach and Ezor slips inside, hurrying to the controls while Keith closes the door behind them. As soon as he’s done, he rushes to Ezor’s side, and she lets him take the helm without a word.

“How long until takeoff?” Ezor asks after a moment, anxiety creeping into her voice.

“Not long, a dobash or two at most,” Keith replies without taking his eyes off the controls. For some reason, he can’t get them to work. “Maybe more. Something’s wrong.”

“What?”

“The controls aren’t responding.” Keith frowns, then his eyes widen and he swirls around to face Ezor. “We have to get out of here, they know we’re here.”

Ezor doesn’t wait to hear how Keith came to that conclusion before bolting for the door. Keith follows her, and he regrets it the moment he steps out of the shuttle and runs into one of Alfor’s officers. The officer hoists Keith off the ground while two others wrestle Ezor to the ground, one having their hand clamped across her mouth to keep her from warning Keith of the danger.

Keith curses and claws at the officer holding him up, but his claws are too short, too dull, and they do nothing to the officer’s armor. So Keith resorts to kicking the officer in the knee and groin as hard as he can. It’s enough to get the officer to loosen their grip on Keith, and Keith twists himself free and rushes to Ezor’s help.

Keith tackles the bigger of the officers to the ground, wrenching the weapon from Ezor’s holster to shoot the officer point blank, splattering blood and flesh and bone across the floor. Keith blinks, stunned for a fraction of a second.

By the time Keith turns back to her, Ezor has freed herself of the second officer, and they’re laying lifeless on the ground. Keith doesn’t ask how she accomplished that.

“You said something about backup?” Keith stands, handing the weapon back to Ezor before taking another weapon from one of the fallen officers while Ezor shoots the last one still alive.

“Acxa and Zethrid are close by, but I don’t know if they’re close enough. They’re supposed to be backup for when we get off the ship,” Ezor replies. “I don’t think they’ll be much of a match to this ship anyways.”

Keith keeps his frustration at the situation to himself, and focuses on coming up with a solution to their problem.

“We could disable the ship’s security and defense systems and escape that way,” Ezor suggests.

Keith nods. “Sounds like a plan.”

They hurry towards the doors, not caring about the cameras anymore; Alfor already knows what’s going on, so there’s no point in hiding.

Except Alfor meets them at the door. Keith slides to a stop, grabbing Ezor’s arm and pulling her behind his back to keep her safe from the officers pointing guns at her.

Zarkon shifts against Keith’s mind, but Keith pushes him away, needing to not have anything at all distracting him in that moment. Zarkon doesn’t like it, but when Keith shoves him again he does what Keith wants and fades away from Keith’s thoughts. Keith pulls his shields up for good measure.

They’ll never make it, not against Alfor, Gyrgan, Trigel, and their officers.

And where is Shiro?

Shiro would know what to do. Shiro would stop Alfor, if for no other reason than Alfor doesn’t want to make an enemy of Shiro. Yet.

Keith pushes Ezor back, the memory of his last fight with Alfor flashing through his mind. Alfor, Trigel, and Gyrgan were deadly without the added back up of their officers, what is Keith supposed to do against them when he doesn’t even have a bayard and they have more people willing to kill Keith on their side?

“Take him,” Alfor orders, and the officers rush at Keith. Keith shoves Ezor away, and as he’d hoped, she turns invisible and disappears from the officers’ sight.

Trigel moves silently deeper into the hangar, scanning the room for Ezor. Keith’s too busy to worry about her, though. He shoots one of the officers, kicks the next one, and headbutts the one that grabs his arm. But there are too many people grabbing for Keith, and Keith is far more comfortable handling swords than firearms.

Rather than protect himself, Keith takes what might be his last opening to shoot at Trigel, catching her shoulder before someone wrenches his hand up and twists until Keith lets go of the gun.

Alfor’s officers force Keith down until he’s kneeling at Alfor’s feet, but at least Trigel lost track of Ezor. Keith focuses on that, on the frustration and anger on Trigel’s face as scans the room before turning to the officers following Gyrgan who is making his way to her.

“Find her!” Trigel orders as Gyrgan grabs her and examines the damage done to her shoulder. Some of the officers hurry to comply, while others stay where they are, faceless and silent, just like the ones making sure Keith stays still.

Alfor watches some of them leave the room, some move to look around the hangar. “You can let him go now, he’s Galra, but I doubt he’s stupid.”

The officers holding Keith down let go, but Keith doesn’t hurry to his feet, even though he stands up. The officers aren’t far enough from Keith for him to be comfortable with unnecessary sudden movements, and they don’t look like they intend to leave his side just yet.

“See?” Alfor steps closer to Keith, and if it wasn’t for Keith’s pride and unwillingness to let Alfor intimidate him, he’d take a step back. Alfor narrows his eyes. “How did the Galra know we were coming to their settlement? I assume that’s where your friend got onboard.”

“I don’t — “

“Because the best explanation I can come up with is that someone tipped them off, and you and Thace are the only  _ Galra  _ around here, and we have Thace under constant surveillance.” Alfor spits the word Galra out like it’s a curse, and maybe to him it is.

Keith tenses, he can’t help it; he’s alone, with no one to back him up, and he can’t beat all the people in the hangar on his own. Keith reaches for Zarkon without thinking, not expecting to get anything after he’d just pushed Zarkon away and slammed his shields down without explanation, when all Zarkon had wanted was to check on Keith and make sure he was fine.

Not when they’re still trying to recover from the fight they had, when they’re still so unsure of where they stand with each other.

But Keith needs to try, he needs  _ someone _ there, so that he knows he’s not alone.

Alfor brushes his fingers down the side of Keith’s face and grips his jaw painfully, narrowing his eyes. “How did you do it?”

Keith grits his teeth, refusing to let Alfor see anything in his expression. Alfor’s hold on Keith’s jaw tightens, and he brushes Keith’s bangs off his face with his free hand, trailing his fingers down the side of Keith’s face...

Pushing his mind against Keith’s.

Keith strains against Alfor’s hold, trying to push him out of his mind. But he’s strong, maybe stronger than Haggar, and Keith can’t hide, can’t run away, can’t force Alfor out of his head. The pain of the unwelcome invasion into his mind makes Keith’s knees buckle, and his vision blurs with tears.

The protective fury rearing its head in the back of Keith’s mind and rushing to protect Keith from Alfor knocks the breath out of Keith.

Alfor tears himself free, stumbling away from Keith as Keith collapses on the ground, heaving and shaking and ready to cry from joy and swear to Zarkon he’ll return to the Empire in that very instant if that’s what Zarkon wants, because Zarkon came and protected Keith when no one else was there, even if it’s Alfor, even if Keith had just shoved him away.

“So that’s how you do it,” Alfor muses, his voice holding a dangerous edge.

Before Keith can even think of replying, Alfor’s fist connects with his temple and knocks him to the ground, his face colliding with the floor with enough force to make him bite his cheek and his nose crack. Keith coughs, his mouth filling with blood and his nose bleeding.

He’s dazed. He needs to get away.

Zarkon nudges Keith’s mind, encouraging him to get up, to run away  _ get away get to safety that is not Alfor that is not Alfor you have to get to safety — _

“Now that I have your attention” — Alfor leans down, his eyes glimmering with gold when Keith meets them, and Keith knows he’s not talking to him, but to Zarkon — “I want you to know that I will destroy you and everything you hold dear.”

Keith’s blood runs cold.

Alfor straightens up and nods his head towards Keith. “Restrain and sedate him. I want that... contact studied and ripped from his mind.”

Keith scrambles to his feet, ignoring the nausea his speed causes him. He takes down the first officer trying to grab him, and Zarkon keeps telling him to  _ run run find your friends  _ and Keith tries, he does, but his head hurts and his mouth and nose are bleeding, and his footing is unstable from the concussion he’s sustained.

Alfor’s officers grab him, four against one, and there’s nothing Keith can do but struggle against their hold. Someone strikes Keith’s head, and the room spins around him.

Keith holds onto Zarkon for as long as he can as his legs give out under him and his vision grows dark and blurry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm thinking I could do the last edits to the remaining chapters in the next few days and post a new chapter about every other day. Not sure about it yet, but I'm considering it.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	35. Chapter 35

Shiro runs through the ship, anger and fear combating for dominance inside him, making his heart hammer faster.

By the time he reaches the bridge, he’s dashed past Hunk and Lance, and they both follow him, knowing something has to be wrong.

“What the hell did you do to Keith?” Shiro demands the moment he lays eyes on Alfor.

Alfor turns from the screen to Shiro, looking as collected and pleasant as always. “He tried to escape. We are attempting to locate his helper at the moment.”

“I don’t care about what you’re doing  _ now _ , I care about what you did to Keith!”

Alfor’s expression tightens, but that’s the only change in him. “Keith escaped a cell, attempted to hijack one of our ships, killed three of my officers, injured several others, as well as Trigel. We merely sedated him.”

“Then why is he bleeding in the med bay?” Shiro demands.

“Because, as I said, he started killing my people and we defended ourselves,” Alfor replies patiently. “His injuries, minor as they are, are being treated as we speak.”

“You’re releasing him now,” Shiro states. “He can go to the Blade with Thace, or —”

“Keith is not leaving this ship,” Alfor says, his voice colder than Shiro has ever heard it. Even Allura frowns at him, but she’s quick to school her expression and return to staring at the screen before her.

“Yes he is,” Shiro says just as coldly. Lance shifts behind him, and Hunk mutters something Shiro doesn’t bother paying attention to.

Alfor studies Shiro for a second, the hint of a smile on his lips understanding but his eyes are cold and the set of his shoulders is resolute. “Keith is staying here —”

“He’s not.”

“ _ —  _ because we have discovered he is telepathically connected to Zarkon, and as soon as I know how that is possible I will remove that connection. I will not have him move freely on my shio, spying on us and risking our lives.”

“He’s what?” Lance’s voice is high with shock, and if Shiro were to look over his shoulder, he’d see Lance’s shock mirrored on Hunk’s face, but he’s too busy glaring at Alfor.

Even Allura is surprised.

Alfor narrows his eyes. “You knew, didn’t you?”

Shiro doesn’t answer.

“Shiro?” Allura looks at him, her expression almost hesitant, but Shiro doesn’t let it soften his resolution.

“You have no right to be poking around Keith’s head without his permission,” he tells Alfor.

Alfor tilts his head. “How do you know he didn’t give me permission. Perhaps we — “

“Keith hates you and he’d never let you into his head. He wouldn’t even let Coran or Allura into his head and he likes them,” Shiro cuts in.

Alfor’s smile fades slowly, like he can’t quite believe Shiro isn’t hearing him out. “You knew of something that has the potential to put us all in danger — to put my daughter in danger — and you did nothing. Why should I not consider you a traitor along with your Keith?”

Shiro steps forward, ready to argue — or maybe punch Alfor square in the jaw with his Galran arm —  when Hunk grabs his arm.

“Shiro’s just upset over Keith. They’re close, that’s all,” Hunk says, pulling Shiro away. Shiro doesn’t resist until they’re in the nearest shower — the only areas they think aren’t monitored so closely.

“I had it under control,” Shiro snaps, regretting it immediately. Hunk isn’t his enemy, and he hasn’t done anything to deserve Shiro snapping at him.

“What’s going on? Is Keith really... you know.” Lance waves his hand.

Shiro sighs, his shoulders slumping. He supposes the secret is out, and if Alfor intends to break the bond... “Yes. And Keith is going to die if Alfor touches that bond.”

It’s enough for Hunk and Lance to stop worrying about what the bond means, and start worrying about Keith’s safety.

“We need to tell Allura,” Lance says, “we need to — “

“Tell her so that she can tell Alfor, who’s probably going to use that as an excuse to kill Keith immediately? Claim it was an accident and that Allura told her about it too late?” Shiro crosses his arms. “This is Keith we’re talking about. I’m not putting his life in the hands of someone who’s been so keen on keeping him imprisoned. He’s injured Keith twice now. You think he’ll care if Keith lives?”

Hunk and Lance share an uncomfortable glance.

“We need to do something,” Shiro says, though he doesn’t know where they’re supposed to even start. “Fast.”

“What do you suggest we do, grap Keith and run away?” Lance shakes his head. “That’s impossible.”

Shiro stops, frowning thoughtfully. “Not necessarily. We need Thace and Pidge... Allura probably won’t leave Alfor, but we should still try to see if she could be swayed. Coran might be willing to follow her too.” Shiro’s frown deepens. “We can’t take all of the Lions; if Allura doesn’t come with us, Blue would be under her control, and Alfor has a hold over Red, right?”

Lance nods, not looking happy about the reminder.

“So that leaves Black, Yellow, and Green. Black’s avoiding Zarkon like he’s got the plague and she doesn’t care about Alfor, Trigel, or Gyrgan either, but what about Yellow and Green?” Shiro turns to Hunk.

“Trigel and Gyrgan said hi to the Lions, but I didn’t have any problems when I piloted Yellow afterwards,” Hunk replies. “Pidge... I think she knows best when it comes to Green.”

“We need to ask her about it, then,” Shiro says. “We’ll also need food, clothes — not just armor, but clothes we can wear to blend in. We’ll need medical supplies, weapons, maps... get whatever tech you think will be useful, and get Pidge to help you.” Shiro waits until Hunk nods, ignoring the scared and hesitant look in his eyes. “We’ll need to be quick.”

“Are you really suggesting we run?” Lance asks.

“Yes,” Shiro replies, surprising even himself with how sure he sounds.  _ “ _ Keith’s right, something’s off here and I’m taking him away. You can come back later if you feel like it or stay here now, but I have to do this.”

“I don’t know.” Hunk rubs his mouth with his hand. “What if you’re wrong.”

“He’s not,” Lance says quietly. “There was something really wrong in that other reality, and there’s something wrong with Alfor. I think we should run.”

Hunk has a silent argument with himself, but eventually he sighs, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “Yeah, something’s off here. Maybe we should go stay with the Rebellion for a few days or something.”

Shiro nods, even though he knows he’ll be gone for more than a few days. “So we’re in agreement. Now we just need to get Pidge, and hopefully Allura to agree.”

“I’ll try to talk to Allura,” Lance says. “And I’ll check the storage for medical supplies. I don’t think I’ll be able to get into the med bay while Keith’s there, no matter how much Alfor thinks Keith and I don’t like each other.”

“And I’ll take Pidge, the tech, and food,” Hunk says.

Shiro nods. “I’ll grab Keith and Thace, and try to find the person who helped Keith get out of the cell as well.”

They fall silent, looking at each other with severe expressions, unsure of what they’ve just committed to.

 

* * *

Escaping the Castleship is a lot easier said than done, and no matter how much Shiro wants to rush things, he can’t. Pidge decides to join them almost immediately upon hearing what has happened to Keith, but Lance hadn’t even dared to mention leaving to Allura.

“She’s in complete agreement with Alfor,” Lance tells Shiro. “I don’t think anything sort of a disaster can convince her to leave him.”

Shiro grits his teeth, but he doesn’t otherwise express his frustration. “Hunk says Pidge is working on doing something about the cameras so that we’ll have a few minute window to get out of here. I’m figuring out if there’s a pattern to how the Alteans move around and see if there’s a particular time when we’d have an easier time getting away.”

Lance nods. “I’ll help you.”

“Thanks.”

Shiro watches Lance go before heading to Thace’s room. Thace has taken up a habit of avoiding moving around, and it makes Shiro’s insides clench in shame. How could they have allowed a friend of theirs to feel he’s not safe moving around freely? Thace had come to them from the Empire’s prison and he’d been nothing but helpful, and they had ignored the way Alfor and his people had slowly but surely begun trapping him in a single room. Why? Because Alfor is Allura’s father? Because both Allura and Coran had been elated to have Alfor, Trigel, and Gyrgan back? Because the Castleship had been filled with Alteans for the first time in ten thousand years?

Shiro forces his guilt into the background of his mind as he knocks on Thace’s door, only entering when he gets permission to do so. Shiro smiles at Thace who seems surprised but not displeased to have Shiro at his doorstep, and looks around the small space.

“What can I do for you?” Thace asks, putting his book down.

Instead of answering, Shiro pulls out the small device Pidge and Hunk had built based on the program they had created to give Lance a chance to talk to Keith safely. Shiro wants to believe they’re not being monitored in their rooms, but as he pushes the button on the sphere like device, he tells himself it doesn’t hurt to be sure.

A moment passes, then Shiro smiles at Thace. “We’re leaving. I was hoping you’d come with us.”

Thace’s eyes widen. “Leaving? Why?”

“You heard what happened to Keith, right?”

“Of course,” Thace replies, shifting. “I allowed Ezor — one of Lotor’s generals — to hide in my room for a while. She left on board one of Alfor’s ships just a varga ago.”

“Well, we’ve had enough. We’re taking Black, Green, and Yellow, and we’re leaving. We’re gathering things we’ll need at the moment, and when we’re ready to leave I’ll go get Keith, and then we’ll have to run,” Shiro explains. “And thanks for letting me know about Ezor, that’s one less thing for us to worry about.”

“I will help you with Keith. If he is unconscious or drugged, I will have an easier time carrying him than you.”

Shiro doesn’t argue; Keith has gotten heavier since he became Galra, and though Shiro can carry him and get Keith to the Black Lion, having Thace help won’t hurt. “Thank you.”

“Do you need me to do anything else?” Thace asks.

Shiro thinks about it, shaking his head slowly. “Not really. We’ve got everything under control, and Alfor and his people don’t seem to want you to move around — and I’m sorry about that.”

Thace shakes his head, smiling sadly. “It is not your fault. Let’s just get out of here as fast as we can.”

“Yeah,” Shiro agrees, relaxing slightly.

“If I may,” Thace starts, frowning minutely as he thinks his words over. “I am a spy, so I am rather well equipped to get things done without being noticed. I would like to help you prepare, and though I do agree with you that I am under far too much scrutiny to be able to gather supplies or go around the ship, I could instruct you in some basic techniques.”

“That would be great,” Shiro says. “Thank you.”

Thace inclines his head. “It is no trouble. I think we should start by arranging a dinner.”

“What?”

“It is less conspicuous if we all sit down to eat than us all packing into a single room, or you running to me every other quarter for advice. A dinner would allow us a long period of time to go through what we need to go through,” Thace explains.

“I’ll get Hunk to prepare the meatiest meal he can, since the Alteans aren’t huge fans of that. We’ll take care of making sure no one but us wants to join us, and you — here.” Shiro pulls his pad out and hands it to Thace. “We’ve agreed not to send anything to each other since we can’t be sure Alfor isn’t monitoring us, but that’s our plan this far. If you could go over it and tell us what you think, and offer your input?”

“I’ll do that,” Thace promises.

Shiro nods. “Thanks. I need to go now, I promised Pidge I’d check in on her work.”

“Good luck,” Thace says as Shiro walks out of the room, and though Shiro smiles and thanks him, something about it makes his insides cold.

 

* * *

Gyrgan watches Trigel work herself into unusual rage over the Galra girl that has somehow eluded her. He doesn’t point out that she might have escaped in one of their own ships — not by herself, of course, but hiding in one of the many that has left the Castle of Lions in the past few days.

If it was up to Gyrgan, he’d be less concerned with a single Galra in hiding than of the human children running around playing Paladins. He had warned Alfor of harming Keith, he had said it would cause a divide, but his words had been disregarded. Alfor is too focused on his goals to allow something like upsetting children stop him.

But Gyrgan isn’t. He keeps an eye on the humans, watching them grow warier, more secretive. He watches them when they have their own private little dinner with Thace, and he watches them sneak around, gathering things.

Preparing.

Gyrgan mentions it to Trigel, but her focus is on the Galra girl and she waves him off, telling him to go complain to Alfor.

So Gyrgan does. He goes to find Alfor, not surprised that he’s in the medical bay, trying to force himself deeper into Keith’s mind. Gyrgan stays out of the way, not wanting to bother Alfor’s fight with... whoever is keeping him out at the moment. Sometimes Alfor grumbles about Keith, sometimes he seethes about Zarkon. Sometimes he coldly mentions them both. 

Keith hasn’t been conscious since he tried to escape. Alfor has hooked him to machines and drips, keeping an eye on his vitals and making sure he doesn’t die of dehydration or lack of nutrients while Alfor tries to figure the bond out.

“Did you want something?” Alfor asks, surprising Gyrgan. He had thought Alfor was too lost in Keith’s head to notice what is going on around him.

Alfor looks up, his eyes glimmering gold rather than blue, and Gyrgan crosses his arms, even as he makes himself relax. “Trigel is still hunting for the Galra girl.”

“I know that,” Alfor says, removing his hands from Keith’s face. “What I don’t know why you would feel the need to tell me things I’m already aware of.”

Keith looks too gaunt and small on the examination table he’s lying on.

“Have you made any progress?” Gyrgan asks. “I’d like to start working on our next target.”

“Not yet,” Alfor sighs, scowling. “They’re putting up a fight.”

Gyrgan glances at Keith again. “Another target might distract Zarkon.”

“Then go figure out where to strike,” Alfor snaps. “I have work to do.”

Gyrgan almost tells Alfor about the humans and their sneaking around, but the cold, golden glimmer of Alfor’s eyes stops him. Let Alfor worry about the bond, since it’s so important to him. The humans are not important for their goals, in the end. They are insignificant, unable to do anything that would be more than a minor annoyance.

Let Alfor deal with them when they grab his attention. As it is, Gyrgan thinks it better to let the humans be and sneak around if it will keep them out of the way.

Let them run away if that is what they want. It might be better that way anyways.

 

* * *

Shiro hasn’t been involved in the planning of the war for almost a week now — not since Keith’s failed escape attempt — so when over half of the Altean ships disappear from the hangar and around the Castleship, Shiro has no idea what’s going on.

Rather than ask what’s going on from Alfor, Trigel, or even Gyrgan, Shiro finds Coran.

“We are targeting an important Galran outpost,” Coran tells Shiro. “It’s nothing for you to worry about, Alfor has it under control.”

Shiro asks Coran for the location, doing his best to be casual, and after he has the information he needs he thanks Coran for the information and hurries to find Thace.

“That isn’t an important outpost,” Thace tells Shiro, his expression growing horrified. “It is a free access station. Half of the people there aren’t even Galra, and even fewer are military. It is a rest stop for travelers and it has a lovely shopping mall. It has no strategic value, except for ensuring our people and the people living freely under Galra rule have easier time traveling long distances.”

All color drains from Shiro’s face, and he leaves Thace without another word. For the first time in a week, he runs to the bridge, nearly toppling Coran over as he barges through the doors.

“It’s just a space station! It’s full of civilians, and most of them aren’t even Galra.”

Alfor turns to Shiro, frowning. “You’re not welcome here yet.”

“And you’re targeting a civilian population,” Shiro shoots back, glancing around the bridge. “Where’s Allura?”

“She was feeling unwell,” Alfor replies immediately. “And we don’t need your opinion on what is a good course of action for us to take.”

“They’re  _ civilians _ ,” Shiro repeats. “They’re innocent.”

“Civilians living willingly under Galra rule, supporting the Empire,” Alfor points out.

Shiro opens his mouth to argue, but Alfor raises his hand. “There are always casualties in a war, and though I would prefer to avoid civilian ones, this is the best way to get Zarkon’s attention and get him scrambling. Trust me, I know how he works; we need him losing focus if we want to defeat him. We are going to do our best not to harm the people there, but I have no doubt a few unfortunate people will be lost.”

Shiro stares at Alfor, not quite believing what he’s hearing. He understands, on a cold, logical, unempathetic level what Alfor is saying, but to even suggest such action... “We’re supposed to be better than the Galra,” Shiro says, as much to himself as to Alfor.

“We are. But this is necessary, and I am not going to prolong this war because your sensibilities are getting in the way,” Alfor replies, nodding at one of his officers standing near the doors.

The officers grab Shiro’s arm and haul him off the bridge despite Shiro’s protests, and locks the doors to keep Shiro from reentering the bridge.

Shiro stares at the closed doors for a few second before turning on his heels and hurrying off to find his friends. Collecting them all to one secure location takes less than fifteen minutes, but the silence that follows after Shiro tells them what’s going on seems to last hours longer.

“We have to get out of here, fast,” Pidge says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Shiro nods. “I say we leave tonight. I assume you’re all more or less packed?”

He gets a three, solemn nods as a response.

“Start getting ready to move. I’ll tell Thace what’s going on, and we’re grabbing Keith. Alfor’s fleet should be returning a little after midnight, and I think we should be gone before that.” Shiro levels everyone with a serious look. “This is not going to be easy, and I want you all be prepared for the worst.”

“We will, don’t worry. We’ve already got everything packed or in the Lion’s, so we’re ready to go,” Lance says.

“Yeah,” Hunk agrees. “I just need to grab a few things from the kitchen — food that spoils and stuff like that — but that won’t take more than a few minutes and I can go do that right now, while Alfor is distracted.”

“Do that,” Shiro replies. “Can we all be ready to go in three hours?”

A moment of shared, thoughtful looks, then three nods and determined words of agreement.

“Then it’s settled.” Shiro nods, more to himself than the others, his heart pounding in his chest. “We’re leaving tonight.”

 

* * *

Three hours later, when Alfor is in the middle of coordinating his attack on the station, Shiro and Thace take on the Altean scientists in the medical bay. Shiro ends up striking two of them with his Galran arm, while Thace does a quick work of the remaining three with a sword.

Once they’re sure the room is secure, Shiro turns his attention to Keith, his heart clenching in his chest at the sight of him laying on the examination table. Keith is pale, his skin sickly at best, and he’s hooked to too many machines. The many IV bags drip liquids steadily into Keith’s veins, and while Thace goes to study them, Shiro hurries to Keith’s side, pushing his hair — so sticky from sweat and the lack of washing — off his face. “Keith?”

“He won’t wake up for a while,” Thace says as he turns to remove the IV’s from Keith’s hand. “Those are heavy sedatives, muscle relaxants, and other medicines.”

Shiro curses under his breath and helps Thace pick Keith up. The loose, thin clothes someone has put on Keith make Shiro want to find a blanket for Keith, but he reminds himself that there’s several of those in the Black Lion, and they need to get going.

“Get his tail, would you?” Thace says, and Shiro lifts Keith’s tail up and places it on Keith’s stomach where it won’t fall off.

Shiro leads the way towards the Black Lion, his prosthetic arm at ready, his heart racing with anxiety.

What if they won’t make it?

No, they have to make it. Keith’s life depends on it. They hide from the Altean officers patrolling the corridors — since when have they been doing that? — but they get to the Black Lion without being spotted.

But Coran is waiting for them there, his arms crossed and a hard frown on his face. It’s the last thing Shiro wants. He can’t fight with Coran, not now.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Coran demands.

Shiro steels himself, stepping between Thace and Keith, and Coran. “We’re taking Keith away before Alfor kills him.”

“I don’t like this,” Coran says.

“I don’t like it either, but I’m doing what has to be done,” Shiro replies. “I don’t want to fight you, but I will if I have to. I’m not going to let anything happen to Keith, and Alfor is not only going to kill him, he’s attacking innocent civilians. I can’t support that. We can’t be a part of that, it’s not right.”

Coran’s frown deepens. “I...”

“Coran, please.” Shiro takes a step forward. “We have to do this.”

Coran’s shoulders slump. “I’m worried about Allura.”

Shiro stops, glancing at Thace over his shoulder. “Why?”

Coran uncrosses his arms, sighing. “She had a... discussion with Alfor that I wasn’t privy to, and after that she’s been unwell, according to everyone. I did talk to her earlier today, and she seemed fine. She told me to trust Alfor but...”

“Something felt off,” Shiro finishes for him.

Hesitantly, Coran nods.

“Come with us,” Shiro says, surprising both Coran and himself. “Let’s get away from here, regroup, and plan a way to get Allura away from here too.”

“Why are you leaving without her? Can’t you — “

“She doesn’t want to come. We tried, but she won’t leave Alfor. We can’t grab her — not with how easily she could kick our asses — and take Keith away at the same time, so we’re prioritizing the person who is going to die if they stay here. We’ll come back for Allura when we can get her away from here safely.” Shiro bites the insides of his cheeks. “Just come with us and help us save her.”

Coran steps aside, revealing the bags he’d been hiding behind his legs. “I packed some things I think you might have forgotten.”

Shiro bridges the distance between them and places a comforting arm on Coran’s shoulder, wishing he had time for more. “Let’s get going.”

They hurry into the Black Lion, Shiro taking the controls, Thace ordering Coran to help him with Keith. They all know it’s to keep Coran busy while they make their escape, but Coran makes caring for Keith his main priority.

“Everyone ready to go?” Shiro asks the others over the comm lines, fearing he won’t hear from his friends or worse, that he’ll hear someone other than his friends over the comms.

_ “ _ All good here,” Hunk’s tense voice comes over the comms. “Had to take out one of Alfor’s men, but I’m good.”

“Lance and I are ready to get going,” Pidge says, sounding out of breath but otherwise fine. “We almost had trouble with the guards, but we managed.”

“Great.” Shiro sets his controls for the last time. “If everything’s set, we can get going.”

“Got it,” Pidge says, and after exactly fifteen seconds, the Castleship shakes from the explosives Pidge and Lance had just set up going off. The alarms outside the Lions blare to life, but the mechanics keeping the bay doors shut open.

Shiro flies the Black Lion out of them before he can think about what he’s doing, trusting the others to follow him.

As Shiro had expected, they have barely cleared the Castleship when Alfor’s remaining forces come after them in their ships. Shiro had prepared for it, and he makes quick work of the closest to them together with Hunk and Pidge. They’d planned their escape, and they’d planned a simple way of dividing and conquering, as Lance had called it. They stay close enough to be there to protect each other, but not close enough for their enemies to attack them all at the same time without breaking formation.

Each time one of the ships breaks off the formation, the Lions are there to destroy it.

The only reason it works is that Pidge had specifically targeted the Castleship’s engines and weapons systems to keep it from following them. It won’t take Alfor long to fix the damage, but it gives them enough of a head start to get away.

The ships follow them for almost an hour, and by the time they take the last one out, they’re all tired, the Lions as spent as their Paladins, though they’ve taken much more damage.

“I guess that answers whether or not Trigel and Gyrgan can take control of the Lions at a distance,” Hunk says as they speed further away from the Castleship.

“I wonder why Alfor didn’t come after us with Red,” Lance says.

“He doesn’t want to risk the Lion not listening to him,” Coran says quietly, too quietly for the comms to pick his voice up.

Shiro starts. He hadn’t heard Coran enter.

“Keith is recovering,” Coran says a little louder. He looks pale, but there’s a resolution in his eyes that tells Shiro he’ll be fine. Eventually.

“Let’s just be glad he didn’t and focus on finding a safe place to rest up,” Shiro says.

“I’m calling Matt and ask him if the Rebellion has any safe houses nearby,” Pidge says.

“Okay. But make sure he understands he can’t go telling the rest of the Rebellion that we’ve left or where we’re going. And we need to figure out how to stop the Castleship from tracking us as soon as possible,” Shiro says.

“I can help you with that,” Coran offers. “As soon as we land, as I could use Hunk’s help.”

Shiro turns to nod at him. “Thanks.” He faces forward, addressing the others again, “we need to land now so that Hunk can help Coran take care of the tracking problem. We’re not leading Alfor to wherever we decide to set up camp.”

“There’s an uninhabited planet not far away. We can set camp there for a few hours,” Hunk says.

“Then lets get there. We’ll also need to divide our resources evenly among the Lions so that we don’t have to stop every time someone gets hungry or hurts themselves.”

With that, Shiro cuts the comms and sets the course to the planet Hunk had settled on.

 

* * *

Keith is still unconscious when Shiro gets a chance to join him and Thace, but Thace is smiling encouragingly.

“He’ll come to. Coran and I decided to let him wake up on his own rather than bringing him out of it. I suggest we get food, medicine, and clean clothes ready for him,” Thace says.

“His clothes are in the back,” Shiro says absently, waving in the correct direction.

Thace goes, leaving Keith and Shiro alone for the moment. Shiro calls Lance, asking him for the food and medicine, and Lance promises to bring them to Shiro as soon as he can.

While Shiro waits, he makes his way to Keith. Keith doesn’t look any better, but at least he looks more comfortable on the narrow bunk, wrapped in blankets and sleeping than he had in the med bay. Shiro sits on the floor by the bunk, sighing and rubbing his tired eyes. They still need to move to another location far from where they are now, but they have an hour of down time at least.

So Shiro closes his eyes and lets himself drift into light slumber. He wakes up when Lance joins him, but Lance tells him to go back to sleep, and moments later Lance slumps down next to him, closing his own eyes for a moment.

Coran wakes them both an hour later, and they continue on their way to the rebellion safehouse Matt had directed them to, with Shiro leading the way.

They don’t reach the planet where Matt had instructed them to go until well past what should be noon, but on the planet it’s early morning. They all decide to sleep in the Lions since they don’t feel like setting up camp in a place they’ve never been to just yet, and they don’t have the energy to make sure the place is secure.

Coran goes to sleep in the Yellow Lion, but Thace stays with Shiro and Keith. Shiro gives the extra covers and pillows to Thace, only taking one pillow and a thin blanket for himself as he curls on the floor by the bunk.

 

* * *

It’s not until Lance, Pidge and Hunk see Keith for the first time that they truly understand the severity of what’s going on. Shiro carries the still sleeping Keith into the base they’d just finished setting up, letting the three of them open doors for him, even if it’s not really necessary.

Shiro doesn’t take the time to explain to them what has happened to Keith; he trusts either Coran or Thace to take care of that. Shiro takes Keith to the room they’d assigned him and sets him on the bed, pulling the covers on top of him.

After making sure Keith is comfortable, Shiro leaves him there and heads back to the others. Hunk has made breakfast, and Shiro sits down to eat with them and tells them Keith is resting.

“He looked horrible,” Lance says softly.

“He’ll be fine,” Shiro replies. “He just needs rest.”

“What happened to him?” Pidge asks, pulling the butter closer to herself. “He wasn’t that bad in the cell.”

“Alfor has been attempting to study the bond,” Coran says.

Thace frowns. “What bond?”

Shiro forgot Thace hasn’t actually been told about the bond yet, and he grimaces. “Keith and Zarkon share a telepathic bond,” he says.

Thace’s eyes widen to the point of being comical. “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s a long story and I think Keith would prefer to tell it himself,” Shiro replies. “All you need to know that Keith was never the danger Alfor made him out to be, and that he’s happy with the bond being there.”

Thace doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t argue either.

“We need to figure out what we’ll do next,” Shiro says. “Ideas?”

“Matt is coming in here as soon as they find a ship they can take. He said he’s bringing dad as well,” Pidge replies. “I’m keeping in touch with them and making sure we have a secondary comm line set up.”

“I’m going to ration food and water into the Lions. Nothing perishable, though,” Hunk says. “And I’ll set the kitchen up.”

“I’ll make sure the medical supplies are spread evenly as well,” Coran adds.

“I will check our weapons,” Thace says.

“And I’m setting up everything in the house,” Lance says.

Shiro looks around the small table. “Did you talk about this without me?”

“Yes,” comes the answer from everyone.

“You need rest,” Lance adds. “Look after Keith. That should be a low stress job right now.”

Shiro laughs, but it’s tired, and he doesn’t have it in him to argue. Someone has to look over Keith anyways, and everyone else seems to have figured out what they need to do. So after breakfast, Shiro heads back to Keith’s room and curls on the arm chair there, and he’s asleep moments later.

When Shiro wakes up, it’s to Keith’s screaming.

Shiro scrambles to his feet, almost falling face first to the ground as he hurries to Keith. The ear splitting scream is only made worse by the way Keith clutches his head, pulling his shoulders to his ears, curling in on himself like he’s trying to shield himself — to be as small as he can be.

Shiro doesn’t bother pulling Keith’s hands from his head, he just pulls Keith into his arms. “Tell me what to do.”

Keith doesn’t reply, but slowly his screaming dies down to sobbing and whimpering and an occasional quiet scream.

“Please,” Shiro tries again, close to tears himself.

The others burst into the room seconds later, called there by Keith’s screams.

“What happened?” Lance hurries to Shiro’s side, but he stops, standing there by the bed, trapped somewhere between reaching for Shiro and Keith and stepping back.

“I’ll get a sedative,” Coran says.

“No.” Shiro glances over his shoulder, holding Keith a little tighter, his eyes finding Thace. “Call Haggar. Keith’s pad is in the bag at the foot of the bed and he has her comm number.”

Thace inclines his head and gets the pad while Coran clasps his hands together, pressing them to his chest. He’s as anxious to do something about Keith’s situation than the others, but they trust Shiro to know what he’s doing.

Shiro only hopes he could trust himself as much.

Thace leaves the room, and Shiro focuses on rubbing Keith’s back while they wait for Thace to return. And he does just that moments later, but rather than coming in with an answer, he asks Coran to join him outside the room. Coran hurries after Thace, happy to have something to do.

“Could someone get a glass of water?” Shiro asks, just to give someone else something to do as well.

“I’m on it,” Hunk says and hurries out of the room.

Shiro glances over his shoulder again. “Lance? Could you go see if Coran and Thace need help. You know where everything is in case they need to find something specific.”

“Yeah, I think I should do that,” Lance agrees and follows Hunk out of the room.

It leaves Shiro and Keith with only Pidge there with them, but Shiro doesn’t know what he should make her do.

Hunk is the first to return, carrying a glass of water. He’s even managed to produce a straw. “Here.”

“Thanks.” Shiro takes the glass and offers it to Keith, but Keith ignores him, still whimpering and clutching his head, his sobs muffled against Shiro’s chest.

After a moment Hunk takes the glass from Shiro and places it on the nightstand.

Lance and Thace return a few minutes later as well.

“We called Matt. He needs to pick up a few things we need to give Keith,” Lance says. “Coran is making a tea that’s supposed to calm Keith down.”

“The High Priestess is of the opinion that we shouldn’t give him a sedative right now,” Thace continues. “She says that it would only help us, and it is better if Keith is able to tell us of his needs. She says the constant attacks on his mind are causing him pain, but that it will pass with time, as he recovers.”

“She said it’s really important we don’t push Keith or stress him while he recovers,” Lance adds.

Shiro nods. “In that case I think it’d be best if we minimize the amount of people here.”

“I’ll go make sure Matt and dad hurry,” Pidge says, turning on her heels and hurrying out of the door.

“I’ll help her,” Lance mutters before following her. Hunk leaves with him.

“Thace?”

“I have sworn to protect Keith. I am not leaving him.” To show his point, Thace sits on the chair Shiro had abandoned.

Shiro nods, grateful that Keith has someone like Thace in his corner, and for the company.

Keith clings to Shiro, his blunt claws digging into Shiro’s sides, and Shiro holds him a little tighter.

 

* * *

Matt and Sam arrive four hours later with the medicine Keith needs, and Coran is quick to fix a dose based on the specifications Haggar had left them with. The medicine knocks the already exhausted Keith out cold, but a quick call to Haggar assures them that was a possibility, and she orders them to stop bothering her with stupid things.

Shiro stretches, his back popping painfully, and at Thace’s insistence, he leaves Keith to sleep in peace.

“If we leave the door ajar, I will hear it if Keith wakes up,” Thace assures Shiro, guiding him out of the room. “And you need food.”

Coran and Hunk have set up a late lunch (or an early meal, depending how you look at it) and going by the looks on Matt and Sam’s faces, Pidge has told them exactly what’s going on. Shiro frowns, not appreciating even more people being told of the bond without Keith’s permission, but he can understand why she would tell them; they’re not exactly in a situation where they can keep that a secret anymore.

The only problem Shiro has — and one he intends to let Pidge know about — is that apparently Matt and Sam had been unable to secure a ship they could fly themselves, as Shiro quickly spots the familiar masked figure of Zoshtor leaning against the wall, his arms crossed, his mask firmly in place.

Not for the first time, Shiro wonders if he ever takes it off.

Sam spots Shiro first, and the grim shadow that falls on his face makes Shiro forget about scolding Pidge for now.

“Alfor has shot down a Rebellion ship,” Hunk informs Shiro in a low voice as he comes to hand a cup of what passes for coffee to him.

Shiro grits his teeth. He supposes that with him and the others off the Castleship, there’s no reason for Alfor to hold back anymore, and there’s a small part of Shiro that feels guilty for that; maybe the only reason Alfor didn’t start shooting everyone in sight was that he wanted to keep Shiro and the others on his side.

Shiro sits at the table, accepting the plate of casserole Coran brings him, along with a glass of water.

After a few second, Matt scoots his chair closer to Shiro’s and leans towards him. “Don’t worry, Zoshtor’s fine. He’s with us.”

Shiro nods, the food in front of him suddenly calling to him and demanding his attention.

The kitchen is mostly silent as they eat, and the only reason the table by the hexagonal window overlooking the large lake by the base is large enough to hold them all is that someone has found an extension piece to it.

After the meal, they opt to stay in the kitchen and lounge around the table with drinks and cookies. They try to decide what their next move should be, but they’re all tired and they can’t come up with a cohesive plan of action.

They’re still thinking about what to do and admiring the sunset casting the lake outside the safehouse in glittery oranges when Keith enters the room, looking exhausted and battered, but not like he’s in pain anymore.

Shiro stands, his chair scraping against the floor. “Hey, are you okay?”

“I’m... better. I’m better,” Keith replies, hugging his arms around himself as he trudges towards the table. He’s put on clothes from the bags Shiro had packed for him — all of the clothes Zarkon had bought Keith along with most of Keith’s other possessions — but he hasn’t bothered to do anything about his hair, and he’s still too pale, the dark circles around his eyes and his hollow cheeks keep him from looking anywhere near healthy.

But Keith is up and moving around, and that has to be a start.

“Do you want food?” Hunk asks, standing as well. “There’s still plenty left. I — “

“What happened?” Keith asks, stopping a few feet from the table.

Shiro shares a hesitant look with the others and sits back down. “Well, Alfor... we decided to leave and now we’re in hiding. This is a Rebellion safehouse.”

“What about Ezor?” Keith bites his lip, frowning. “She was trying to help me.”

“She escaped on board one of the Altean ships. We have not heard from her, but I would assume she got back to Lotor safely,” Thace replies.

“There’s something else you should know.” Shiro hesitates, unable to quite meet Keith’s eyes. “Alfor knows about the...”

“I noticed,” Keith mutters, barely audible.

“He told everyone,” Shiro blurts just to get it out.

Keith’s face falls.

“What’s it like?” Lance asks after a minute of uncomfortable silence, more curious than anything. “Having Zarkon in your head?”

Keith stares at Lance, unblinking, his expression blank. “Serene,” he says eventually, his voice quiet. “Soothing,” he adds with a shrug.

Lance nods slowly, clearly not understanding what Keith means, but accepting the answer nonetheless.

“How did...” Hunk glances around the table, asking someone else to ask the question he wants to ask with his eyes.

“The Black Lion,” Keith replies. “No, we can’t break it, we can’t have a verbal conversation yet, just impression and images and emotions and stuff, yes, Zarkon can find me if he wants, but we can’t... spy on each other, not really. We can get a general idea and we have different… I don’t know, sense? I don’t know what to call it, but we know who we’re with based on what comes through.” Keith waves at Thace. “He’s mild annoyance — at least before Zarkon found out about the Blade thing — and that’s… basically Zarkon liking him — before the Blade thing. For example. It’s like that. Anything else?”

“Did Alfor hurt you?” Shiro asks, unable to keep darkness creeping into his voice.

Keith shrugs, not meeting Shiro’s eyes. “I’ll be fine. My shields just took a beating and I think Zarkon’s tired from...” Keith sighs, rubbing his face with both of his hands. “I don’t know how long it’s been, but my head was basically just used for turf war so I want food and a hot bath and sleep.”

Hunk stands, hurrying to get Keith a plate full of food while Matt waves at Zoshtor — who had been at the kitchen counter making tea — to bring Keith a chair.

Keith frowns, turning around, only now realizing there’s someone there. A few seconds pass, then Keith’s ears flatten and his tail starts moving in that sharp way Shiro has come to associate with danger. Shiro stands when Keith uncrosses his arms and walks towards Zoshtor.

Before Shiro can warn Zoshtor of what’s happening Keith’s throwing a punch at him, but Zoshtor turns, grabs Keith’s wrist, swipes Keith’s legs from under him and sends Keith tumbling to the ground, keeping a hold of Keith’s wrist to keep Keith’s head from hitting the ground as much as to keep him off balance.

Keith is groaning on the floor before anyone fully realizes what’s happening.

“Keith!” Shiro levels Keith with a disappointed and confused look, and Keith grimaces at him in return, still lying on the floor.

“Alfor’s a liar,” Keith says, only adding to Shiro’s — and everyone else’s — confusion. Keith turns to Zoshtor, ignoring the confused look on everyone else’s face. “Zoshtor is a horrible name.”

“It’s a perfect name if you’re aiming for what I’m aiming,” Zoshtor replies.

Coran lets out a quiet noise, catching Shiro’s attention.

“We can agree that I only beat you because you’re hurt,” Zoshtor continues before letting go of Keith’s arm.

Keith sits up slowly, rubbing his lower back. Zoshtor offers Keith his hand, and after hesitating for a moment, Keith takes it, allowing himself to be pulled up. Then, to everyone’s surprise, Zoshtor pushes his many scarves off his face, revealing that his mask is actually a part of a helmet that, after Zoshtor presses his thumbs at the base of his jaw, folds in on itself.

The indignant noise Coran lets out drags Shiro’s attention back to him.

“So can you say hello to Zarkon for me? Test the waters to see if he’s still mad about the little swim I made him take? Or the paralytics? No? Maybe —”

“What is going on?” Coran demands.

Sam raises an eyebrow. “You know him?”

“Of course I know him!” Coran scowls, crossing his arms. “Why are you... what the quiznak is going on?”

Keith sighs, looking worn out all of the sudden. “This is Blaytz.”

Shiro doesn’t know if his jaw can actually detach itself and fall to the floor, but it certainly gives it a good try.

“And the only thing you’re getting from Zarkon is a sword to the face,” Keith continues, turning to... Blaytz, apparently.

Blaytz shrugs. “So he’s still mad about the swim and the paralytics.”

“I think he’s mad about you blowing up Daibazaal,” Keith replies.

Blaytz’s expression loses all easiness. “I don’t doubt that, but it’s hard for me to talk to him about it if he’s threatening murder.”

“You still haven’t answered me,” Coran says, standing from the table, his expression more angry than Shiro has seen it in a long time. “What is going on?”

“That’s a long story,” Blaytz replies. “And I’d love to tell you all about it, but we need to get food into Keith, and I want my tea, and there is so much I would need to tell you that it’s best you all rest for the night, and tomorrow I can tell you whatever you want to know.”

Coran frowns. Blaytz smiles in return, soft and kind. “I promise I’m not your enemy here.”

“He’s fine,” Keith says, surprising everyone, especially since he tried to punch Blaytz mere minutes ago. “And I want food.”

“Here.” Hunk raises the plate in his hands, the casserole on it steaming invitingly.

Keith walks back to the table and Hunk brings the plate to him, and Shiro gives his chair to Keith. Blaytz brings an extra chair with him when he joins the others at the table, offering it to Shiro.

The air has lost the tired but comfortable sense of it, replaced by expectant anxiousness. Shiro shifts, the tension in the air and the revelation that they have been dealing with all of the original Paladins for weeks now making his mind race.

Shiro looks around the table, seeing his concern for the future mirrored on his friends’ faces. Blaytz sips his tea like he has no care in the world and Keith grows distant as he eats his casserole slowly, almost absently, but they are the only ones seemingly unaffected by the tension of the table.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter in... Wednesday? Or is that too soon?
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	36. Chapter 36

When the next morning comes, Keith is the last one in the kitchen. His head still hurts, the bond throbbing from the lack of the shields and walls that usually give it structure and stability, and keeps Keith and Zarkon from being constantly in each others heads, unable to pull away properly. The pulling and tearing and beating Alfor had given him doesn’t help either, making the bond sore, like Keith is coming down form the worst flu of the century.

The others are already finishing their breakfast when Keith enters the kitchen, but no one comments on Keith’s late appearance.

“You look better,” Sam says, offering Keith a kind smile.

Keith waves him off. It’s the hour long bath he took the night before, he wants to say, but he’s tired and hungry, and he just wants to eat and not talk to anyone just yet. He envies Zarkon who’s fortunate enough to still be asleep. Zarkon might have taken an even worse beating than Keith, since he had put himself between Alfor and Keith and stayed there even when Alfor had hammered their shields down and tried to separate them.

He’d stayed there, keeping Keith safe, taking the brunt of Alfor’s attacks for days, no matter how hard it was on him.

Zarkon deserves to rest, and Keith does his best to let his gratitude and love for Zarkon flow through the bond. Zarkon shifts in his sleep, relaxing at Keith’s warmth. Keith smiles at his coffee cup — it tastes more like caramel cocoa than coffee, but if Hunk calls it coffee, it’s coffee — oblivious to the stares he’s receiving until Lance clears his throat.

“None of your business,” Keith says before Lance can even open his mouth.

Shiro nudges Keith’s ankle with his foot.

After everyone is finished with their breakfast and they have their teas or coffees or whatever they want to drink in their hands, they all meet in the lounge room and sit on the chairs and cushions there. Blaytz is there too, his skin damp, like he hadn’t properly dried himself after taking a shower.

“You said you’d tell us what is going on,” Coran says as soon as everyone is settled, leveling Blaytz with a pointed look.

Blaytz smiles and leans back in his chair, smelling the tea he had spent good half an hour brewing earlier. “I did, didn’t I? So what do you want to know?”

“How are you alive?” Pidge starts the questioning.

“Zarkon shot our shuttle, we collided with the rift... time got kind of wonky so I can’t tell you if we were in there for ticks or months, but eventually we came out on the other side of the rift. None of us were exactly ourselves. Alfor... he didn’t even know who he was, Trigel tried to kill everyone who wanted to help us, Gyrgan was completely catatonic. I...” Blaytz sighs. “I’m not proud of the way I was back then; I assumed everyone was an enemy and I refused to trust anyone, and I did injure quite a number of people because of it — even killed a few. It took me a long time to get over that, longer than the others. I’m afraid Alfor used that against me. But to answer your question, the rift is filled with pure quintessence that affects you in unexpected ways. If you come to direct contact with it like Zarkon did... Zarkon died, alright? But something came back from the rift with him, and it brought him back or it’s imitating him — I’m unsure of how much of the real Zarkon is still left, and how much... We didn’t come into direct contact with the rift, but the shuttle we were in wasn’t designed to be there, so the rift ‘leaked’ into the ship. It affected us without possessing us — at least not to the extent it did with Zarkon. No glowy eyes, see?”

To demonstrate his point, Blaytz leans closer to Pidge, and though there’s a yellow shimmer in his eyes, it’s not noticable and Keith has to look for it to fully register it’s there.

“Why is Alfor the way he is now?” Coran asks, his voice quiet.

“I think it comes down to the rift,” Blaytz replies. “It might not have affected us to the degree that it did with Zarkon, but it did affect us. Alfor is...” Blaytz frowns.

“Zarkon said Alfor isn’t Alfor,” Keith says, catching everyone’s attention. “In the hangar, when Alfor... Zarkon said he’s not Alfor.”

“If you can’t use words, how could he say anything?” Matt asks.

“A lot of practice on learning how to read each other,” Keith replies.

“Zarkon isn’t wrong, exactly,” Blaytz cuts in, glancing between Matt and Keith. “The rift twisted Alfor to the point he’s unrecognizable under that front he puts up. The rift affects people differently, but with Alteans being so sensitive to quintessence, he was exceptionally susceptible to the effects of it. Zarkon should be resistant to quintessence and look what happened to him, and we never saw Honerva again, so I don’t have her to use as a reference for Alfor.”

Keith looks away and takes a long drink of his coffee.

“The best I can say is that the rift drove Alfor insane,” Blaytz finishes.

“Why are Trigel and Gyrgan following him if he’s insane?” Hunk asks.

Blaytz laughs joylessly. “You have to understand, we have always followed Alfor, even when we were supposed to be following Zarkon. If Alfor wasn’t there to tell us to do what Zarkon says, we would have ignored him. There’s a reason Zarkon spent half our time together telling us ‘I told you so’, being frustrated with us, and saving us from ourselves. Even Zarkon thought of Alfor of our leader. He didn’t even want the Black Lion at first! He though Alfor should have it.”

It shocks Keith, and his shock is mirrored on the faces of the others who are so used to Zarkon being obsessed with the Black Lion being his and his alone. The idea of him not wanting the Lion makes no sense.

“Of course they follow Alfor now that he’s taking up the position of the leader, even I followed him for centuries,” Blaytz finishes.

“Why aren’t you with them now?” Lance asks.

Blaytz looks tired, all of the sudden, and leans back in his chair, taking a sip of his tea. “It dawned on me a little over a thousand years ago that what Alfor was doing was insanity. He had played the long game with taking over the Altea of the other reality, and with building his army and his ships and his scheming. One of the first things he did in that universe was to convince the Alteans there to destroy the Galra before what happened in our reality would happen to them. And they didn’t even have Voltron or a rift to tear open. I’m ashamed to admit I didn’t see anything wrong with that plan.” Blaytz looks down, unable to meet anyone’s eyes.

“What happened next?” Keith asks, hoping his voice sounds encouraging and supportive.

“Alfor hunted the Galra there down and killed them all. Then, a little over thousand years ago he realized he needs the Galra, so he started manipulating the ones here to get them under his control.”

“I’ve met them,” Keith says darkly. “One tried to kill me, the other... she was weird, but she seemed to be on our side. Vazka killed her. And with Alfor showing up, I forgot to tell you all, I think there’s at least one of them working with the Blade so we can’t go to Kolivan for help.  I don’t think Shiro mentioned it either.”

Shiro shakes his head, grimacing. “No. With everything else that’s been going on it just slipped my mind.”

Thace’s ears flatten. “I will look into it. Quietly.”

“We’ll try to look into the Rebellion as well,” Matt promises, sharing a determined look with Sam.

“I have a few dozen people you can start with,” Blaytz says. “Alfor has been smart, he’s spent all this time spreading his influence here, in the shadows were Zarkon can’t see it. He’s taken a few pointers from the Galra way of spying and warfare.”

“So what made you leave him?” Shiro asks, returning them all to Lance’s original question.

“As I said, Alfor wanted to use the Galra. They have a unique resistance to the effects of quintessence. Alteans on the other hand have a unique ability to control quintessence. If you combine the two —”

“You get people who can control quintessence without suffering from side effects,” Coran finishes for him.

Blaytz nods. “But that wasn’t Alfor’s goal; he wanted a Galran-Altean hybrid with one of those creatures infused in their DNA. He theorized that, if he had a Galra and an Altean infected with the rift creatures and they were to... well... have a child before the creatures are too infused in their systems to be inseparable from them — I don’t know how to explain it, there’s a time period when the creature and the host aren’t perfectly bonded and you can see them as separate beings in the host’s body if you run tests, kind of like a parasite or a symbiote, I’m not sure — anyways, he thought it would make the child lesser if the rift creatures weren’t their own entities at the time of conception. But I’m not a scientist so I don’t know more than that; all I know is what I heard Alfor and Trigel talk about.”

“So, this child would be like Lotor?” Keith asks.

Blaytz shakes his head. “I’ve heard of him enough to know that he’s Honerva’s child, right?”

Keith inclines his head, causing Coran to shift and let out a small, surprised noise.

“Honerva would have been pregnant before they went into the rift. That wouldn’t be the same thing; Lotor would be more like us, with the rift leaking into him rather than fully possessing him, I think. What Alfor wanted to achieve was a person who was part of the rift like the creatures living there, but able to live a normal live on our plane of existence.” Blaytz studies Keith for a moment before turning his eyes to his tea, his expression turning thoughtful.

“And you left because of that?” Keith asks when Blaytz doesn’t voice whatever thought is occupying his mind.

“The problem with the rift creatures is that there are billions of them, and while Alfor can capture them, he can’t figure out how they react to individual people. He forced unnatural bonding between hosts and the creatures and... the results were horrible. People died, became deformed, lost their minds... when he decided to still go ahead and start incubating his little science experiments and they suffered the same kinds of results, I had enough. About a thousand years ago, I ran, and I never looked back.”

“What could he possibly do with a child like that?” Sam asks, though Keith isn’t sure if the question is actually directed at Blaytz.

Blaytz still replies, “he wanted to use the child as a powersource so that he can power a weapon he and Trigel worked on and possibly to punch a hole through time and space and bring Altea back while he’s at it — or so he once implied he’d be able to do with this child of his. He thinks the rift creatures are powerful enough to do that, but since they can’t survive on our plane without a host, Alfor had to get creative. I know he tried other combinations besides Galran and Altean at some point, but he abandoned all of those attempts fast. SInce he’s waging war against Zarkon without a super weapon now, I assume he hasn’t managed to figure out how to create his battery baby either, or he realized that his plan would never work and he abandoned it, who knows.”

“So why go to the Rebellion and not Zarkon?” Shiro asks, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Since Alfor if planning on going after Zarkon —“

“And killing Zarkon is going to kill me too, in case you all forgot,” Keith pipes in, “so if it comes down to it, don’t murder Zarkon on the spot, okay? Let me have a last meal or something first?”

It launches a series of questions about the bond, since the topic had been brought up and everyone is still curious about it and how it works.

“Focus, okay? We can talk about that later, if Keith is up to it. Now.” Shiro turns back to Blaytz. “If Alfor is going after Zarkon — with or without a super weapon of any kind — why didn’t you go to him and warn him?”

Blaytz lifts an eyebrow. “I imagine that wouldn’t have gone over very well. I didn’t want him to kill me on sight, so I decided to integrate myself into the Rebellion where I could keep an eye on things and hide from both Zarkon and Alfor. After Alfor tried to kill Zarkon I... had an easier time having a conversation with him, so he’s aware of what is going on now.”

Keith’s brow furrows, and if Zarkon weren’t still resting he’d ask him about what Blaytz means.

“So what do we do now?” Shiro looks around the room. “We need a plan of action, and we need one yesterday.”

“I have a question before that,” Blaytz says, turning to Keith. “This might be the most important question of the day.” Keith sits straighter as Blaytz stares at him with a serious expression. “Does Zarkon still like those books of his — you know the ones if he does, you cannot _not_ know. And is he still obsessive about his fashion?”

Keith laughs, all tension leaving his body. “Yes on both accounts. He actually threw my clothes into an incinerator because ‘the fabric was low quality’ or something. He ordered Haggar to check me for skin damage too.”

Blaytz grins and sits back. “Oh good. He’s still himself, then. That’s good to know.” He turns back to Shiro, still smiling brightly. “You can start planning now.”

 

* * *

 

Shiro goes to see Keith before dinner. They’re not sharing a room at the moment since Keith had said he needs quiet and peace to recover, so Shiro has given Keith all the space he could, but that doesn’t mean Shiro isn’t allowed to check up on Keith.

Shiro knocks on the door, and after a moment Keith gives him permission to enter. Shiro smiles as he opens the door, and though he wants to approach Keith — sprawled on the bed with his eyes closed — he gives him space. “I just wanted to make sure you’re doing okay.”

“I’m fine.” Keith pushes himself up. “Just tired. My head still hurts.”

“Do you want to talk about what happened?” Shiro makes sure the question is soft and not demanding a thing.

Keith shakes his head. “I’m not ready to do that. Not yet.”

Shiro nods. “Can I...” he waves at the bed. Keith inclines his head.

“I just want you to know I’m here when you’re ready to talk,” Shiro says as he sits on the edge of the bed. “I don’t think this is something you should be holding inside.”

“I know you’re here,” Keith says, his eyes cast on the covers rather than meeting Shiro’s. “I just... I don’t think you’d understand. Not in the way I’d need you to understand.”

It hurts, but Shiro tries to look at it from Keith’s perspective. He has gone through something Shiro has never experienced, yes, but...

“I can just listen, if that’ll make it easier for you,” Shiro offers.

Keith shakes his head. “No, I don’t — Alfor, he...” Keith swallows, wrapping his arms and tail around himself. “He forced himself into my head and he kept doing that for days and I... I feel... _violated_ .” Keith’s voice breaks as he speaks, but when Shiro tries to touch his hand, he pulls away. “I don’t want to talk about it. I _can’t_. Not with you. Just... not with you.”

Shiro refuses to take it personally. Keith is hurting, and he’s right: Shiro doesn’t know how having his mind attacked in such a way feels like. Even the things Haggar had done to him... she hadn’t done _this_. He can only imagine the pain Keith is going through. And maybe Keith needs someone who isn’t so close to him or romantically involved with him to talk to. Maybe that would be easier.

“Do you want me to ask Coran to come here? Or... someone else? Thace?”

Keith shakes his head, then stops, considering. “Maybe Coran. But not today. Not... not yet. I need to... I just want to rest for a bit.”

Shiro nods. “Okay. Just let me know when you’re ready.” Keith nods, and Shiro hesitates for a moment before smiling softly. “Can I give you a hug?”

Keith shakes his head again, and it hurts, but Shiro pushes his hurt aside. After a moment, Keith extends his hand to Shiro, his clipped, blunt claws making his fingers look too short. “You can hold my hand.”

Shiro’s smile returns and he takes Keith’s hand, rubbing his thumb against Keith’s wrist comfortingly.

They sit there, silent but not uncomfortable. Keith doesn’t meet Shiro’s eyes, but Shiro doesn’t let that get to him. Keith is gripping his fingers hard enough to make up for it and assure Shiro his presence is wanted.

It’s enough for Keith, so it’s enough for Shiro as well.

 

* * *

 

Lotor remains at the hospital for three days, watching over Ezor like she’s so often watched over him. Ezor had called them from a planet filled with rain and mud, battered and starving and ashamed she had failed her mission. As they had flown her to the nearest acceptable hospital, she had confessed to Zethrid she had almost not come back at all.

After ensuring the rest of his generals know their duty is to stay with Ezor, Lotor takes his own fighter and flies it at top speed to his father, who has — for reasons that escape Lotor — decided to make the Witch’s ship his new home. Lotor is one of the few people who have been given access to it, so he can find it by merely contacting the captain of the ship and requesting their location.

It takes Lotor almost a day to travel to the ship, but he arrives there on schedule, and he allows the officers there to care for his fighter while Lotor goes off to see if his father has time for him.

Of course he does not, but after Lotor showers — something he sorely needed to do — and puts on fresh clothes while his armor is being cleaned, as he had been wearing it for days, Lotor gets guided to his father’s favored recreational room. After a while, a druid serves him with tea and snacks. Lotor is on his second cup of tea when the door opens and a child pokes his head through the door. They both stop, staring at each other in dumbfounded silence.

“Hello,” Lotor says eventually.

The child steps into the room and bows. “Hello.”

Lotor adapts a more pleasant smile. “Who are you?”

The child stands in attention, looking almost comical in the expensive clothes he is clearly not comfortable wearing. “Ragail, but everyone calls me Gai.”

“And why are you here?”

“There’s usually tea here at this time,” Gai replies.

“No, I mean this ship,” Lotor says patiently.

“Oh, um...” Gai shifts, toeing the edge of the carpet, his eyes cast down. “Well, Voltron showed up in our village, and there was this commander who attacked us, and then the Emperor came, and everyone started shooting at each other and the Emperor protected me and then the High Priestess... um, teleported?”

 _“_ Yes,” Lotor encourages.

Gai inclines his head. “She teleported us away, but the Emperor got hurt so we had to leave and I’ve been here ever since.” He bites his lip, his ears twisting as he toes the carpet again. “I haven’t wanted to bother the Emperor by asking when I can go home and the druids are scary.”

Lotor can understand that, especially coming from a child. He remembers well what it was like being surrounded by the faceless druids as a child, to have them loom over him, moving quietly around him.

Watching him.

Lotor straightens his back and sets his tea cup down. “The tea is served, and there is an extra cup and biscuits that you are more than welcome to try out. I will ask Father when you may leave for you, as I am meeting with him later today, if you would like.”

Gai bows, comically deep, and grins. “I would like that very much, sire.”

Lotor’s smile comes a little easier, and he waves Gai to take a seat. Gai is quick to obey, and he hops on the seat opposite of Lotor. He is extremely careful as he pours himself the tea and selects a biscuit, clearly wanting to impress Lotor with his table manners.

Lotor finishes his tea before standing. “I do hope to see you at a later time.”

Gai hops to his feet and bows again. “Thank you.”

Lotor smiles and leaves the room. It might be risky, but Lotor heads to his father’s quarters and enters them without asking for permission.

The room is dark, so Lotor orders the lights on as the doors close behind him. If it were not for the crown resting on the arm of the couch, Lotor would believe his father to be somewhere else, but he never goes anywhere without his crown.

So where is he?

Lotor frowns as he heads towards the bedroom. His father cannot... he would not.

But he is. As soon as Lotor opens the door, his eyes land on his father sleeping soundly in his bed, with a low light illuminating the room. His father must have been too tired to turn it off.

Hesitantly, Lotor makes his way to the bed, fully expecting his father to snap awake and scold him for the intrusion. But he does not wake. It is unusual enough to make Lotor concerned, and he bridges the distance between him and the bed faster.

Soon Lotor is sitting on the bed and nudging his father in an attempt to wake him. “Father?” He gets no reaction. Lotor clears his throat and speaks little louder, “Father?”

Still no reaction. Lotor frowns, kicking his boots off and climbing properly on the bed, feeling like a little child again. He puts a little more force into shaking his father, a little more strength into his voice. “ _Vala?_ ”

Finally Zarkon stirs, raising his arm to touch Lotor’s face. “Go to sleep, _sissa._ ”

Lotor swallows, and when he does not react, his father opens his eyes, looking up to him tiredly. “Go to sleep,” he repeats.

Lotor’s throat clenches, and he wants to lie down, he wants to pretend he is a child again, curling by his father’s side on a night he cannot sleep, and he wants to pretend things are alright when they so clearly aren’t, but...

His father sighs, then he takes Lotor’s arm and pulls him down. And Lotor lies down, unable to fight the physical pull as well as his desire to pretend, even if it for a moment. His father waits until Lotor has settled down before nuzzling the top of his head, purring for a tick before pulling away and settling back down. Lotor waits until he is asleep before taking his father’s hand, only closing his eyes when his father squeezes his fingers gently.

 

* * *

 

Lotor wakes up in an empty bed, and for a moment he thinks he is on his own ship, in his own bed, and that he had imagined curling on his father’s side. But the bed feels wrong and the sheets smell too much of his father for it to have been a dream. Lotor pushes himself off the bed and heads to the main room, rubbing the last of the sleep from his eyes. His father is not there, but someone has left him a meal and his now clean armor.

Lotor finishes the meal quickly, then puts his armor on and brushes his hair with the brush left for him on the table. Once he’s done he hurries out of the room and towards Haggar’s laboratories. Something had been wrong with his father, and whenever there is something wrong with him, he goes to Haggar.

The amount of druids hurrying around in the laboratories is all Lotor needs to see to know he was right. He sets his shoulders and holds his head high, and strides across the vast space like he belongs there.

“Haggar!” Lotor calls the moment he spots her robes glide across the floor.

Haggar stops and turns to Lotor, frowning. “I don’t recall requesting your presence.”

Refusing to let her intimidate him, Lotor strides to her. “Where is my father?”

“That does not concern you. We — “

“My father. Now.” Lotor clasps his hands behind his back. “I am your Prince, and you are going to tell me what I want to know.”

Haggar narrows her eyes, but Lotor refuses to back down, even if he would prefer to leave the room and never look back.

“We are treating the Emperor,” Haggar says eventually. “We cannot allow you to disturb him at the moment. When he is better, I will inform him you have requested an audience.”

“What are you treating him for?” Lotor demands.

“As you know, he was injured earlier this year in the Voltron attack. Recently he has also been shot and the people holding Keith hostage discovered the bond he shares with the Emperor, and they have attempted to locate us through it — an attempt that has caused the Emperor some damage. The strain of that ordeal has left the Emperor tired. I am assisting him in building his shields back up as much as I can,” Haggar tells Lotor, though she clearly does so grudgingly, but she cannot deny Lotor when he pulls rank unless she has his father’s permission to do so.

Lotor does not like Haggar poking around his father’s head. His father does not like it either, that Lotor is sure of, but there is nothing Lotor can do to stop her, and if his father is alright with it...

“When can I see him?”

“Later,” Haggar replies. “When he feels up to it.”

Lotor inclines his head. “See that he is informed of my desire to speak to him.”

With that, Lotor leaves the laboratory and heads to see how his fighter is doing. Then, to spend his time in a productive way, he makes sure Gai is doing well, and he checks the latest reports as well as his piling messages. It keeps him occupied until a druid comes to inform him that his father is ready to see him.

Lotor hurries through the ship to the conference room his father has claimed for now. When he enters, he is not surprised to see his father surrounded by reports, with a cup of tea by his side.

“You wished to see me?”

Lotor inclines his head and clasps his hands behind his back, pushing the memory of falling asleep by his father’s side away. “We have located Ezor. She is currently in a hospital, and she failed to retrieve Keith.”

“I am aware of that,” Zarkon replies without taking his eyes off his report. “You may tell your officer she is lucky I have more important thing to worry about.”

Lotor glances down, then steels himself again. “May I ask what you are working on?”

“Alfor is back,” his father replies.

Ezor had told Lotor as much, and he has heard enough stories of the Altean King to know he should be dead, and that if he has returned things are worse than they ever imagined. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No.” Finally, Zarkon puts his pad down and faces Lotor. “I have granted Haggar permission to activate the Korya Zur.”

Lotor is not sure, but the world seems to stop.

“You should return to your injured friend. You are no use to me here, and — “

Lotor does not register the world moving again until he is slamming his hands on the table. “We can fight them. We can gather out forces and those loyal to us, and join forces with those who they are attacking. I know you do not like the idea but it is our best chance at victory. They may be capable of decimating our defenses, but they have faced resistance from others. We should take advantage of that, with our resources and their ability to fight the Alteans, we could win! What you are suggesting is madness.”

Zarkon shakes his head and stands. “They are outworlders. They would turn on us the moment it was beneficial to them.”

“But— “

“I want you to take your ship and your officers and go as far away from here as possible,” Zarkon says, moving to the window, clasping hands behind his back as he watches the space move past them slowly.

Lotor stills, just for a moment before he strides forward. “Father, please,” Lotor pleads as he bridges the distance between them. “Do not drive me away. I can help.”

“There is nothing for you to do here,” his father replies, his voice too cold.

“But I can... the Galra are my people as well,” Lotor insists. “I want to be _here_. I want to keep them safe.”

At last his father turns to face Lotor, and there’s something like sadness in his eyes. He cups Lotor’s cheek, and Lotor can do nothing but stare at him, too shocked to do anything else.

A hint of a smile tugs at the corners of Zarkon’s lips as he studies Lotor’s face. “You are extraordinary, _sissa._ ”

Lotor swallows around the lump in his throat and grabs his father’s hand, and presses it firmer against his cheek. Of all the times for him to act like a parent... Lotor blinks, his eyes feeling too dry, and tries not to make a sound when Zarkon withdraws his hand and heads to the door.

“I want you off this ship in the next naare. If you are still here after that I will have your ship and your crew found and destroyed,” Zarkon says as he stops at the door, almost hesitating before turning to Lotor. “You are free to follow your own path, but your place is not with us. You must leave.”

Unable to speak, Lotor simply watches his father leave. What is he supposed to do now?

After a moment, Lotor gets himself moving. He hurries to his fighter, grabbing Gai on his way there, making quick excuses of taking him home. While he flies at top speed towards the planet Gai says his family is on, Lotor thinks. He racks his brain for a solution, for something that will stop his father from going through with the madness.

Lotor does not linger with Gai after ensuring he is safely with people he knows. Instead he heads towards the hospital, hoping that his generals will have ideas. Zethrid will suggest destroying something, that he already knows, and while it could be a workable solution, it will only make Zarkon angry.

No, Lotor needs a solution that will ensure Zarkon stops Haggar.

Deciding to take a chance, Lotor calls Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll post the next chapter when I'm done with the final edits, so either tomorrow morning or Friday.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gonna post this tomorrow, but I got called to work and I won't have time, so you're getting this today.

Keith drags himself to the common areas a little over an hour before Lotor should arrive, just to let them know he’s coming. The complaints and questions he gets are understandable, but Keith raises his hands to subdue it.

“He’s not our enemy, okay? He’s asking for my help, and I’m gonna help him,” Keith explains. “You can stay inside, and I can meet up with him outside. I didn’t tell him what’s going on and that doesn’t have to change.”

“We need all the allies we can get,” Shiro says, surprising Keith. “Lotor isn’t the worst possible one out there.”

“But he’s Galra,” Matt says.

“So am I,” Keith points out. “And so is Thace. Do we bother you as well?”

“No, that’s not what I meant,” Matt hurries to say, “it’s just that... he’s...”

Keith crosses his arms. “With the Empire? Zarkon’s son?”

Matt nods. “Exactly. We can’t trust him. He could report back to Zarkon.”

Keith laughs. “You do realize that Zarkon has free access to my head? You think he doesn’t know exactly where we are and what’s going on? Lotor has a better chance of keeping a secret from Zarkon than I do.”

“Then maybe you should stay out of the critical parts of our planning,” Sam says.

“No,” Blaytz cuts in, making everyone’s eyes snap to him with his commanding tone. “We need the Galra on our side. Fighting Zarkon is pointless when you’re also fighting Alfor, and Zarkon... he’s not easy to work with, but he’ll never endanger his people willingly. He’ll work with us if it’ll benefit him. And he’s quite possibly the best tactician the universe has ever seen, so having him on our side would be beneficial to us because of that alone.”

“And when it doesn’t benefit him?” Matt asks, crossing his arms and frowning.

Blaytz tilts his head, taking in a deep breath. “I guess we’ll see what will happen then. But trust me, with the bloodbath that’s about to come, you’ll want Zarkon on your side. And we won’t be here to wonder about what will happen after we take down Alfor if we don’t work with him.”

Keith nods. “And maybe Zarkon will calm down after kicking Alfor’s ass.”

“Let’s hope so,” Blaytz laughs. “Now, let’s get ready to welcome the kid! I’ve been waiting for this moment for a thousand years.”

The energy Blaytz bounces out of the lounge with is contagious, and Keith can’t help but smile.

After a moment, Hunk stands as well. “I’ll go prepare tea. Or something. Since we’re going to be entertaining a guest, apparently.”

“Thank you,” Keith says, and earns himself a small smile from Hunk.

The others remain in the lounge where Shiro can convince them that trusting Lotor a little won’t be so bad, and Keith leaves them to it, deciding he needs fresh air. Keith sighs as he steps outside, closing his eyes against the bright shine of the sun.

Keith understands their hesitancy; they’ve just had to escape from the place they’ve called home — well, maybe not Matt and Sam, but the point stands — for almost two years because they let strangers who were supposed to be their friends in there. And now Keith is about to bring in a stranger who has attacked them, damaged Shiro’s arm, and is the son of the person they have been at war with for two years.

“You look concerned,” Blaytz’s voice comes from behind Keith.

Keith jumps and swirls around. Blaytz smiles. “I’m sorry. I assume you were lost in thought.”

“Yeah,” Keith agrees. “I just...”

“They’ll come around,” Blaytz says. “They’re just recovering from being betrayed by people they should have been able to trust. Give them time.”

“Are you giving Zarkon time by staying away?”

“I don’t think there’s enough time in the universe for Zarkon to even start considering forgiveness. He’s got a tendency to hold a grudge,” Blaytz replies, sadness creeping into his voice. “I wish I could apologize to him — properly. I just don’t know how to do that yet. I can’t bring Daibazaal back, and trying to hide behind Alfor telling us what to do and the rest of us just following him... that wouldn’t be right. That would be an excuse and a poor attempt at minimizing my own part in what happened. We did destroy his home, and we should take responsibility for it, and we should have done it the tick Zarkon came back, not hide behind Alfor’s righteousness and certainty in his inability to do wrong.”

Keith studies Blaytz, taking in the bone deep tiredness marring his face, the sadness that he hadn’t realized seems to always hang just behind the mask of happiness he wears. “Maybe you should tell him that.”

Blaytz tilts his head and smiles. “You think I could get enough sentences in before he mauls me?”

Keith laughs and nods. “I’ll hold him back.” He turns more serious. “I think he needs to hear one of you genuinely apologize. He’s terrified of something happening to the Galra, and he can’t trust anyone because of it. He had to get himself drunk to talk about what happened to Daibazaal. He... he had an actual panic attack when we found your scimitars in one of Alfor’s ships.”

Blaytz’s eyes sharpen immediately. “You found my... what?”

“Your swords. The ones Zarkon gave you when the war between your people ended.” Keith frowns. “You didn’t know they were on the ship?”

Blaytz tilts his head in a peculiarly fluid way. “No. I thought I lost them a long time ago. If I’d known where they were I would never have left them behind, I love those swords; they are a prime example of Galran craftsmanship and they’re designed specifically for me. They’re gorgeous.”

Keith curses, and Blaytz looks close to doing the same.

“Alfor purposefully sent them to Zarkon to throw him off his game.” Keith sighs. “I should’ve seen that earlier.”

“You didn’t even know Alfor was alive — “

“I should have seen it the second he came back,” Keith snaps, then rubs his face. “Sorry. I’m just... I’m tired.”

Blaytz is silent for a little too long. “Because Alfor telepathically assaulted you repeatedly?”

Keith drops his hands and turns to Blaytz, his ears flat against his head.

“I know it's a hard thing to go through. Alfor used to practice his abilities on us. He talked us into it, but I don’t think anyone of us really agreed to it. Except maybe the Alteans; they worship him. It also gave him an opportunity to subtly influence those under him.” Blaytz’s eyes grow distant, like he’s lost in a memory. “It wasn’t easy to break free of that.”

“Zarkon tried to protect me,” Keith says quietly. “He... I was hurting too, but I had to... sort of watch him bear the brunt of it. Keeping the bond open and so engaged at these distances isn’t really effortless, but he did it for so long and with Alfor... he... I don’t know how to describe it.”

“The Alteans called it _maanya tol_ ; a sort of telepathic attack comparable to severe, violent assault and, well, rape. It was a capital crime among them, and very few were capable of it. You’re not supposed to force your mind on someone else; it’s too intimate and too violent.” Blaytz smiles, sympathetic but not pitying. “You’ll get through it — both of you — but don’t try to ignore it. Telepathic wounds shouldn’t be ignored; they fester too easily.”

Keith swallows and inclines his head. He can’t form words, but Blaytz still nods in return.

They wait in silence for Lotor to arrive, the atmosphere around them shifting from heavy to easy as the minutes pass. Eventually they spot a small fighter enter the atmosphere and fly towards them. It’s Galran, so Keith assumes it’s Lotor, but he still lets Blaytz get in front of him as they move further away from the base. Keith doesn’t feel like he’s up to a fight just yet.

The fighter lands, and moments later Lotor hops out of it. Keith relaxes and runs past Blaytz.

“What happened?” Keith asks before Lotor has barely finished turning to face him. Keith stops, concern filling him when he sees the lost look in Lotor’s eyes, and  the way he doesn’t hold himself quite as surely as he always does. Keith steps closer to him. “What happened?” He asks again, his voice softer this time.

“Haggar has done something to Father. You must help him.” Lotor’s carefully constructed mask of calm cracks, revealing the fear and worry underneath it, but only for a second. “Please.”

Keith inclines his head, turning his attention inwards, to the bond. Blaytz joins them while Keith tries to get Zarkon’s attention, but...

“I can’t reach Zarkon.” Keith frowns. “There’s a fog there. I know he’s there and I can feel him, but...”

“It’s Haggar,” Lotor says and turns back to his fighter. “I will take you to him. We must —“

“Whoa, wait a second. Let’s go sit down and you can explain the situation to me, okay?” Keith touches Lotor’s elbow gently, and after a moment Lotor follows Keith.

“Who is he?” Lotor asks, glancing at Blaytz.

“Blaytz,” Keith replies, hesitating. “He’s—”

“I knew your father before you were born,” Blaytz cuts in a little too enthusiastically. “And by the state of things, I might be viable to be the best friend he has.”

Lotor stares at Blaytz, his eyes wide.

“You have his eyes,” Blaytz offers. “Well, I assume the blue is from the rift, but still.”

Keith takes a hold of Lotor’s arm to keep him walking in a straight line, as he’s too busy staring at Blaytz. Keith gets Lotor inside the base, and then to the kitchen without any issues. Hunk has the tea at ready, and Shiro is there as well.

As Keith sits Lotor at the table, the others join them one by one.

Keith forces a cup of tea on Lotor, refusing to accept his refusal, and soon Lotor gives up and takes the cup and the slice of pie Hunk pushes in front of him as well. Lotor certainly looks like he needs it.

Shiro sits by Lotor’s side, smiling at him, and Lotor returns the smile, albeit briefly.

“So what happened?” Keith asks when everyone is settled at the table and Lotor looks a little calmer.

Lotor sighs. “Ever since you injured Father, Haggar has been caring for him. The most recent injury he sustained...” Lotor looks around the table.

“They know,” Keith says.

Lotor frowns minutely, so much like the quiet disapproval Zarkon often shows when he doesn’t think it worth it to actually voice his opinion in that moment. “Well, what happened to him, the damage to him was apparently quite severe” — Keith can believe that — “and Haggar is treating him for it.”

“Make sense, so I don’t see what the problem with that is,” Lance says, earning himself a look from Shiro.

“The problem is that she has manipulated him into opening the rift so that she can harvest the pure quintessence from it.”

Lotor’s words make the room freeze.

“I am unsure of how she is doing it, exactly, but I saw Father yesterday, and he... he was not himself. He would never allow the rift to be opened. Haggar has been trying to get him to sign off on it for millennia and he has never even taken a tick to consider it. She has done _something_ to him,” Lotor continues, seemingly unaware of the stunned silence his words have caused. Lotor looks down at his tea, his ears drooping slightly in defeat. “I do not know what to do, so I was hoping Keith could help.”

“And I will,” Keith promises, then turns to the others. “I don’t expect you to help, but I’d appreciate it. I tried to reach Zarkon, but there’s something like a fog between us and I can’t get a proper sense of him. I know he’s there, I can feel him, so I didn’t notice anything was wrong at first; I just thought he was resting or something, but now that I’ve actually tried reaching him, I can’t get a good sense of him. It’s not that he’s got walls up, there’s something else there between us.”

“Haggar,” Lotor says darkly.

Keith nods. “Probably. I need to go to Zarkon to be able to talk to him.”

“You’re leaving?” Pidge asks. “Right now?”

“Yes,” Lotor says.

“No,” Keith corrects, turning to Lotor. “We need a plan if we’re gonna try to reach Zarkon when Haggar doesn’t want us to do so, and you need sleep. You look exhausted and you’re gonna be a liability if you’re not on the top of your game. And if Haggar is opening a rift, then where’s the rift? We have to find them. There’s too much for us to figure out to just run off into space.”

The corners of Lotor’s mouth turn down, his brow furrowing minutely.

Blaytz laughs, and even Coran hides a smile behind his tea cup. Lotor narrows his eyes at them, but Blaytz waves him off. “You look like Zarkon when you make that face. I’ve just missed seeing that particular sour look. It’s got a certain endearing quality to it.”

Keith almost chokes on his tea, his eyes widening as he turns to Blaytz. Unsurprisingly, Blaytz quirks an eyebrow at him. “Don’t try to deny it.”

Keith would have, even if the expression — at least on Zarkon’s face — does have some oddly endearing qualities to it. He just doesn’t need Lotor knowing that.

“Get some rest, eat, and I’ll figure out the best way to approach Zarkon while someone figures out where he actually is.” Keith looks around the table, his eyes landing on Pidge.

She sighs. “I guess I’ll fire up my laptop.”

“Thank you,” Keith says.

“I’ll arrange for an extra room,” Coran says. “We do have plenty of space.”

“Since he is with Haggar, the easiest way to locate Father would be to access the druids’ network,” Lotor says. “I can give you the location of the nearest potential place to access it, and once Keith deems me rested enough, we can move out. I should be able to move there relatively freely.”

“That’d be great. We can try to figure out some kind of a plan while you rest,” Shiro says.

Lotor inclines his head.

“So, we’re just going to ignore Alfor and go off to a druid base so that we can help Zarkon figure his shit out?” Matt looks around the table. “That’s insane.”

“You can always stay here and work on other stuff,” Lance says, surprising everyone. “I know we’ve already talked about this, but... we can’t afford to pick and choose our allies right now, and the Galra have an army and Alfor has an army. We have nothing. And as Keith said when we were talking about the situation on the Castleship, we can’t afford to get caught fighting both sides. I think... Alfor and the Alteans are more of a challenge. They can take out Lions and wormhole around space and hop to alternative realities... at least the Galra operate on normal rules — no offense.”

“None taken,” Lotor assures him as Thace inclines his head.

“What I’m trying to get at is that if we have to pick just one to fight, I say we fight Alfor first. We can agree to a ceasefire with the Galra, or if we have to work with them to defeat Alfor then... it’s for the best of the universe, right? If it comes down to it, we can always get back to fighting the Empire once we’ve dealt with the Alteans.”

“There is just one problem with that,” Lotor says.

“What is it?” Hunk asks. “Seems like a solid idea to me.”

“I just suggested that same plant to Father, and he shot it down without consideration. He will never agree to it,” Lotor replies.

Keith shakes his head. “I’ll talk to him. He just needs a specific kind of approach so that he’ll think about it; Alfor and — no offense to you” — Keith looks at Blaytz.

“None taken.”

“ _—_ all of you guys coming back, that sent him to a spiral. He’s traumatized, okay? He’s — “

“He has enslaved the entire universe for his own pleasure,” Coran cuts in. “There is no acceptable reason for that.”

“No,” Blaytz says before Keith can snap at him. “He’s just being Zarkon; his people got hurt so he’s made them the biggest, baddest, scariest thing in the universe so that no one else will ever hurt them again. He’s not doing it for the fun of it, and Keith is right: he is traumatized. He didn’t just wake up one morning and decide to take over the universe. And even though it is not an excuse, understanding it will help you understand the situation better. And as little as I enjoy it, I think it is time we — the people who were around at that time, not you kids — take some responsibility for what happened.”

Keith inclines his head. “He can’t get over the idea that anyone not Galra won’t turn on him because of what happened. I’ll... I’ll figure out a way to convince him that you all at least can be trusted.”

“Good luck,” Lotor says before digging into his slice of pie. It doesn’t take him long to empty the plate.

Hunk frowns. “We have leftover lunch left, if you want actual food.”

“That would be great, thank you,” Lotor replies.

“I think,” Thace starts. “That we should divide into two teams. One to deal with the Emperor, one to deal with the situation we are in. We need more supplies than we have, and we need to decide if we are going to stay here or if we want to move to another location, and depending on that decision, we need to set up defense systems. I suggest we do a perimeter check to see if this is a good place to stay for a while, for start.”

“I’d like to stay,” Sam says. “I have experience on defense systems, so I can help with determining how easy that would be to do here.”

“I’ll stay too,” Matt says.

“Me three,” Pidge adds, earning himself a confused frown from Thace.

“Me four,” Hunk says, and this time Blaytz and Lotor frown as well.

“I will go with Keith,” Thace says, eyeing the Holts and Hunk cautiously.

“I’ll stay,” Blaytz says. “Zarkon wouldn’t be happy to see me right now and I know how Alfor works. I can help with the defenses. And I need another dip.”

Matt gives him a confused look, and Blaytz shrugs. “I’m amphibian, I have to swim to live. The lake helps with that, by the way, so put that down as a good reason to stay.”

“I’ll see if I can arrange for the kind of bath we used to make you — just in case we have to move,” Coran offers, and Blaytz thanks him.

“I guess that leaves me, Lotor, Thace, and Keith going to the druid base,” Shiro says. “So everyone knows what they’re doing?”

Shiro gets agreements across the table, and soon everyone is going their own way, getting ready to execute their plan.

 

* * *

 

The Black Lion is a little hesitant to get going with Lotor in the cockpit, but after half an hour of flying, things are mostly back to normal. Shiro doesn’t expect trouble in his ability to maneuver if they get into trouble, so he allows the Lion to keep a suspicious eye on Lotor.

“You still have my things in the back,” Keith says as he enters the cockpit again. “And food and other supplies.”

“We decided not to unpack everything in case we need to leave in a hurry,” Shiro explains. “Just the essentials until we can decide where we settle.”

“Okay,” Keith says and joins Shiro’s side. “What’s the ETA?”

“Another half an hour at least,” Shiro replies, then turns to Lotor. “Let me know if you need to call the base before we arrive or anything.”

“I think that would be unwise; we do not want the druids informing Haggar of our arrival.”

“I agree,” Thace says. “We have an easier time dealing with the druids and guards at the base if they have not been instructed to stop us on sight.”

Shiro nods, focusing back on where he’s going.

The rest of their journey goes in expectant silence. The druid base is on a large meteor in a larger meteor belt, and not for the first time Shiro marvels at the Galra’s ability to hide large facilities in plain sight. The coordinates are mapped into the Lion, so Shiro can let his mind drift as he flies.

Black calls for his attention when he drifts too far into his mind, and Shiro smiles, silently thanking her. He wonders if it’s anything like Keith’s interactions with Zarkon when they use the bond. If it is, Shiro can understand the allure of the bond; the constant but gentle presence of someone else there is... comforting.

Shiro glances at the monitors. He fears they’ll run into Alfor’s people, but so far space has been blessedly quiet. Shiro wonders if Black would warn him of Alfor’s presence, and he gets a sense of insult at the prospect that she wouldn’t warn him filling his mind.

Shiro almost apologizes out loud. Black settles again, both of them focusing on flying rather than each other.

After a moment Black fills Shiro with a sense of warmth, just for a second, and Shiro knows he’s been forgiven.

 

* * *

 

They don’t bother hiding the Black Lion as Lotor’s presence should keep them safe.

Thace, Keith and Shiro follow Lotor, Shiro more on edge, Keith more at ease, and Thace only a step behind Keith. Lotor has gone back to his usual polished, practiced ease that hides whatever he’s thinking. Keith has his daggers and Thace’s blade, and Thace has a sword he’d grabbed from the Castleship as well as a sidearm. Shiro had stolen one of the Altean’s firearms and claimed it as his own.

Lotor had raised an eyebrow at the sight of all of their weapons, but he hadn’t commented on it. He has his own sword at his side, so it would have been pointless.

They enter the base with Lotor’s codes, and they get to the end of the first corridor before a druid stops them.

“They are with me,” Lotor states immediately, standing taller. “Unless you are planning on attacking me and Keith“ — Lotor motions at Keith for good measure, at the coat with the Imperial Family’s insignia Lotor had instructed him to put on top of his armor — “I want access to your network.”

The druid is silent for a long moment before stepping aside and point at the corridor on their left. “That way.”

Lotor doesn’t bother thanking the druid for their help as he heads down the corridor. Keith offers the druid a smile before hurrying after Lotor, with Thace and Shiro at his heels. They pass a few sentries as they go, but they don’t bother Keith and the others.

They make it to a computer laboratory without incident, and once they’re there Lotor turns one of the computers on and settles down to find the information they need, while Keith takes another computer and sends Haala a message asking him how things are. Thace hovers behind his shoulder the whole time, but Keith doesn’t mention it.

Haala answers soon with a brief explanation of him and Marzila being well, but that the Empire is on edge and ready to start fighting either a common enemy or each other any tick now. Keith gives Haala a brief update on his own situation before signing off and returning to Lotor and Shiro.

“Anything?”

“No.” Lotor sighs, turning the computer off. “I am afraid Haggar has encrypted her flight route. I have no way of finding out where she is.”

Keith’s ears flatten, and Shiro touches his arm gently.

“Do we have another way of finding the Emperor?” Thace asks.

Lotor stares at the dark screen. “I am— “

A distant explosion shakes the floor hard enough to send a few of the computers, Thace, Lotor, Shiro, and Keith tumbling to the ground.

“What was that?” Shiro gasps, pushing himself to his knees.

“A bomb?” Thace replies as he hurries to help Keith up.

“We need to get out of here,” Lotor says as he pushes himself to his feet. “That came from the outside.”

“Alfor,” Shiro says just as the thought crosses Keith’s mind. “How?”

“He must have picked the Lion on his radars. He’s got people in invisible ships flying around, maybe someone saw us,” Keith says. “Let’s go.”

Keith is the first out of the room, followed closely by Thace and Lotor. Shiro takes the tail.

As Keith had assumed, they don’t reach the front door before running to the familiar, masked, white armored Alteans. Keith takes out Thace’s blade and charges, with Lotor by his side. Thace and Shiro fall behind to offer them cover fire.

Keith dodges the blaster shot aimed at him and uses his momentum to jump behind the three first officers, pushing himself off the nearest wall to give himself enough of a boost to do so.

Lotor goes down, slicing the nearest officer’s legs off as he slides across the floor after Keith. Lotor dodges the shots aimed at him, and Keith hurries to cover him, driving his blade through the officer in Lotor’s blind spot. Shiro shoots the one on Keith’s left, and Thace the one on Lotor’s right.

Keith hurries to Lotor, stepping behind him. They cover each other, using the narrow hallway to their advantage, dividing the Altean forces into two groups. Keith focuses on the four Alteans before him, trusting Lotor to take care of the four others.

When Lotor steps back and turns, Keith goes with it, raising his blade and driving it through the helmet of the nearest Altean officer.

Thace and Shiro shoot the ones Lotor and Keith aren’t quick enough to deal with.

Together, the four of them make quick work of the Alteans, and as soon as the last of them hit the floor they bolt through the corridor, ignoring the carnage they’re leaving behind.

The outside of the facility is worse than the inside had been, with several ships firing at the facility, bombarding the shields and trying to take the cannons firing right back at them out. At least Keith and his group too small for the ships to pick up on the ground immediately.

They dodge the explosions to the best of their abilities, reaching the Lion alive, though covered in dust and blood. Keith hopes it’s not theirs.

Thace checks Lotor and Keith up while Shiro takes them off the ground, turning the Lion against the Altean ships, taking out as many of them as he can. The Lion shakes and trembles when the Alteans fire on her, but Shiro maneuvers her expertly, taking out a few more ships before flying off into space as fast as the Lion can go.

“You two are fine,” Thace says, relief coloring his voice.

“What about Shiro?” Keith asks, hurrying into the cockpit to check on him.

Shiro smiles at Keith, out of breath and covered in black dust, but otherwise fine. “I think we made it. I can’t see anything on the radars.”

“They can hide from the Lions’ radars though, right?” Keith asks just as Thace and Lotor join them.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. We can’t go back to the others yet. I don’t think we should even send them a message.” Shiro grits his teeth. “We need to be careful.”

“We are looking for Father, they are not expecting us back just yet anyways,” Lotor says.

“Do we have any way of finding the Emperor?” Thace asks. “Anything at all?”

“No,” Lotor says.

Keith sighs, defeated and worried for Zarkon. He tries the bond again, but the fog between them keeps him from reaching Zarkon.

“Maybe...” Shiro frowns thoughtfully, then turns to Keith. “Zarkon could track you through the bond. Can’t you do the same to him?”

Keith barks a laugh. “Zarkon had Haggar and druids assisting him; I’m alone and the bond is being fogged up.”

Keith wishes, more than anything, that he could find Zarkon. He wishes more than anything that he could pull at the bond and have Zarkon respond, to have him call Keith to him, but he can’t. He doesn’t even know how he would do it even if the bond wasn’t being tampered with.

“The Black Lion is connected to Father, is it not? And it does have some kind of a consciousness or ability to connect to its pilots, yes?” Lotor’s says, surprising everyone. He turns to Keith. “Can you use it to amplify your bond with him?”

“I don’t —“ Keith looks at the others, at Shiro, but they all seem to be agreeing with Lotor.

“Can you try?” Thace asks.

Keith shakes his head.

“Keith?” Shiro waits until Keith turns to him. “I don’t know how hard this is for you, but we can’t let Haggar open that rift. The damage it could do alone — we have to stop it, okay? If Haggar opens that rift and harvests that quintessence...”

“What?” Keith frowns. “What about the quintessence?”

Shiro sighs, not meeting Keith’s eyes. “Yesterday, after our meeting? Coran pulled me aside and said that he’d overheard Trigel and Gyrgan talk about harvesting the quintessence from the rift, but not having a way to do it safely. Coran didn’t want to worry anyone and he wasn’t sure it’s connected to what Haggar is doing but...”

“It would be easier for them to have Haggar harvest the quintessence and then steal it,” Thace finishes for Shiro.

Shiro nods, turning to Keith again. “So try, okay? We can’t let Alfor get that quintessence. They’re already overpowered as it is, we can’t afford them to get more power.”

Keith swallows, but nods. He can’t do anything else in the situation they are in.

Shiro flies them to the nearest lonely meteor drifting in space they can find and lands the Lion there, and hands the controls to Keith.

Keith takes the seat, uncomfortable and fully expecting the Lion to not respond to him after their last attempt at cooperation. “Okay, what do I do? How do I work with Black on this?”

“Focus,” Shiro replies, trying to sound sure. “Try to see through Black’s eyes, I guess. You need to connect with the Lion. If she’s still connected to Zarkon, she should be able to find him. RIght?”

Keith nods and closes his eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out slowly. “Shut up and don’t bother me. This could take a while and I need all distractions cut down to a minimum.”

No one replies, which Keith takes as acceptance of his conditions. After a second, there’s a shuffle and three gentle thumps as the others sit down.

Keith calms himself and clears his mind, reaching for the Lion, asking her to trust him one last time. The Lion doesn’t respond, but Keith repeats _patience yields focus_ as many times as it takes for the mantra to stick.

And then he reaches for the Lion again.

It would be so easy to let his anxieties and fears take over, to push them all on Black to make her see what he’s going through, but that wouldn’t help — not with  using the bond. He needs structure, as little as he likes it. He needs a light guiding him to Zarkon, and to find that he needs to stay calm.

Minutes pass, maybe turning into hours, and Keith barely has a sense of the Lion in his mind. By some miracle, the Lion slowly grows more present, coming out of her shell and approaching Keith. They study each other, and little by little Keith stops feeling like he’s on solid ground.

He’s floating.

It makes no sense. Keith frowns and opens his eyes.

He’s isn't sure if he's imagining it or if he actually opened his eyes, but he's not in the Black Lion anymore. He's somewhere else, on a vast, open plane of barren ground, too many stars in the sky, and the closest rocks (or mountains, Keith can’t be sure) miles away, and everything around him looks… off. Almost like there's quintessence covering everything, but at the same time everything is oddly transparent, even Keith; he can't quite see through his hand, but he thinks he should be able to do just that.

“What the fuck?” Keith turns his hand around, trying to understand what he’s seeing.

The sound of a lion roaring rings in the air, loud and distant at the same time, and Keith follows the sound. He walks — or the ground moves and he stays still, he’s not sure — towards the sound, the distance impossible and merely a few feet at the same time. The Black Lion is waiting for Keith, almost glowing, more alive than Keith has ever seen her.

Black studies Keith for a long moment that feels like mere seconds before turning around. In the near distance, the ground crumbles, growing cracked and faded until it disappears and becomes nothing but the vastness of space. But the space is not dark; it’s alive with light, every star brighter than Keith has ever seen them, every planet glimmering, shining with the life on them.

Keith approaches the crumbling edge, his attention drawing from the glimmering space to the way the pieces of the ground float around in space, slowly drifting in their spots. Keith glances over his shoulder at Black, surprised to see the Lion right behind him.

The Lion hadn’t made a sound as she had moved after him.

Keith swallows, and Black lowers her head, nudging him gently. She doesn’t have to use words for Keith to know it’s an encouragement. Keith stands straighter and nods. He approaches the cliff, sitting just at the edge, the distant (so close too close) sound of the ground crumbling filling the air around him. Black steps behind him, supportive and protective at the same time.

Keith closes his eyes and focuses on Zarkon and the bond, and nothing else.

When he opens his eyes again, the space is alight with color, not just glimmer and light. The purple sheen on everything has made way for what’s truly there, and Keith takes a moment to admire the multitude of colors shining around him, connecting to each other by glittering dust.

Then there, in the distance, he sees a light that burns brighter than anything else, making everything else seem dull now that Keith has seen it, beckoning Keith closer. Keith breathes out and watches a trail of red and purple, glitter like dust float from where he is towards the star, colliding with the bright, glimmery purples of the dust trail of the light.

_Zarkon._

Shiro’s voice calling Keith’s name penetrates the silence, but Keith ignores it, watching the light he _knows_ is Zarkon, trying to memorize its location, wanting to run to it and never look back.

Keith pushes himself to his feet and steps over the edge of the ground. He doesn’t fall, so he takes another step forward.

“ _Keith!_ ”

Keith ignores Shiro’s voice and moves forward a little faster, using the dust as his path.

“ _Keith!_ ”

The world tilts, and suddenly Keith is opening his eyes —

And he’s back in the Lion.

But he can still see the glimmer of the stars and the planets, the dust connecting everything — connecting him to Zarkon.

“Keith?” Shiro is there, in front of Keith, and even he has a mesmerizing glow to him. But Keith doesn’t care about that; he cares about the light in the distance, calling him to reach it immediately. “Keith, you’re... you — are you okay? You look...”

Keith smiles. “I can see everything.”

His mind, his every cell, his very being, is calling him to go towards that blinding star in the distance — towards Zarkon. So Keith takes the controls, and the Black Lion surges forward, taking Keith where he wants to be as fast as she can.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter coming this weekend.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah... I forgot to mention there aren't actually 39 chapters.
> 
> So enjoy this last chapter and check the end notes for info about the future of this series and other stuff.

The Black Lion disappears from the feed in that spectacular way Alfor is all too familiar with; someone has activated its wings. Alfor would suspect Shiro, but though he is a capable leader and his bond with the Lion is strong, he does not have the drive to achieve the goal they must be attempting to reach.

Keith, then.

Alfor allows himself a moment to smile. It would be perfect if Keith were the one to unlock the Lion’s abilities so easily, but Alfor knows better than to hope. He wants data and undeniable proof of that happening before he accepts it as the truth. Until then, he will make no assumptions. Until then, he will plan for every possibility.

“Take us to that location,” Alfor orders.

“Yes, my King,” Hira replies, opening the wormhole and doing as she is ordered.

“Start scanning for the Lion around the predetermined locations. Once we find the Lion, we find Zarkon,” Alfor orders as soon as they exit the wormhole. “Scan for the trace of the Lion here and send the results to the fleet; they will need to know what they are looking for.”

“Yes, my King,” Hira says again.

His people work fast and silently, deadly in their efficiency. They are as Alfor needs them to be. They are perfect for defeating the Galra, just as their weapons and ships are. But no one defeats a Galra with technology alone; it takes the right kind of a person behind the technology, and Alfor had brought the best with him.

Trigel enters the bridge, but Alfor doesn’t turn to her. No, his attention is on the screens and monitors before him, on the scans his people are already performing to locate the Black Lion.

“We are ready,” Trigel tells Alfor as she comes to stand beside him. “Zarkon?”

“Scrambling like I hoped he would.” Alfor offers Trigel a smile. “He will open the rift again; it is his best chance at defeating us.”

“We won’t have much of a window to take the quintessence. If we fail —“

“I won’t fail,” Alfor cuts in, shutting Trigel up. Alfor spares her a disappointed glance before focusing on the screens again.

“How is Allura?” Trigel asks after a while. “Gyrgan and I have not seen her for a while.”

“She is reconsidering her position in peace. I would appreciate it if you were to leave her be until she has made her decision,” Alfor answers.

Trigel nods. “We understand. I hope she will reach a decision soon, though. I miss our discussions.”

“I’m sure you’ll get back to them in no time,” Alfor assures her.

“My King?” Hira turns to Alfor.

“Yes?”

“We have located the Black Lion.”

Alfor looks at the monitors and yes, sure enough, there, at the edges of the furthest of their predetermined locations, is the Black Lion. And it is still.

“The Lion is damaged,” Trigel says.

“Good,” Alfor replies. “It won’t be able to defend Zarkon.”

Alfor turns to Hira. “Gather our forces. We have a narrow window to execute our plan, and we must be ready.”

“Of course, my King.” Hira bows, then turns to her controls and gets to work.

 

* * *

 

The Lion surges violently, sending Shiro, Lotor, and Thace crashing to the floor. Shiro groans and grits his teeth as he pushes himself up and hurries to Keith’s side.

Keith...

The way the markings on his face glow, the way his eyes glow... how much more like Zarkon’s pure purple they are. The yellow of them has vanished completely, but Shiro still sees (he does, he _knows_ he does) Keith’s eyes underneath the glow. It’s like he’s been filled with quintessence and it’s dripping from his eyes and the markings on his face, little by little, drifting in the air like glitter.

“Keith?”

Keith doesn’t even seem to know Shiro exists. Shiro bites the insides of his cheeks and turns to look at the monitors. The view from the window is impossible; like the space is being fast forwarded around them, a strange, purple sheen covering everything.

Shiro turns back to Keith and yanks him off the chair, not caring what it will do to them as long as Keith _stops_.

The Lion comes to a halt, and Shiro and Keith crash against the controls. Shiro bites back a cry of pain from the force of the impact, holding Keith tightly against himself, shielding him. Protecting him.

The cockpit is filled with the sound of alarms going off, more of them demanding attention than Shiro has ever heard. Then, without a warning, the Lion goes dark and all sound dies before Shiro can do so much as think about getting up and checking the damage.

Shiro ignores the Lion and lays Keith on the floor, relieved that the glow is gone but terrified because Keith is limp and unresponsive in his arms. “Keith?”

“What happened?” Thace asks, joining Shiro’s side.

“Was that a wise thing to do, yanking him off the chair like that?” Lotor adds, sounding less than pleased with Shiro’s actions.

“Keith was — “ Shiro bites his lip. “Does he look okay to you?”

“Do we?” Lotor counters. “We are dead in space, Haggar is about to open the rift, and Alfor is out there, most likely looking for Haggar and the quintessence she is about to harvest. Your friends are on an unsecured base they _hope_ won’t be found before they can put defenses up, and even then, they are a handful against an army. How is this the preferable outcome? At least Keith was taking us somewhere.”

Shiro glares at Lotor, wanting to punch him, to tell him off. Instead he reigns himself in and focuses his attention on Keith. He pushes the hair from Keith’s face, petting his cheek gently.

After a few seconds, Keith groans. “What the... what happened?” He asks, rubbing his eyes.

When he tries to sit up, Shiro pushes him back down. “The Lion is drifting, but everything is going to be fine. You... got kind of weird.”

“Your markings were glowing, and Shiro panicked,” Lotor supplies, and Keith flattens his ears at Shiro.

“We needed to get to Zarkon and I could see where he was. If you’d given me just a few more seconds— “

“How do you know you wouldn’t have gotten hurt from that? Or worse, died?” Shiro counters.

“I don’t, but... we needed to reach Zarkon,” Keith replies, his anger dissipating. “I’m worried about him.”

_“_ We’ll get to him,” Shiro promises. Just to prove his point, he stands and starts going through the basic checks on the systems, trying to get the Lion to return to him.

Lotor and Thace focus on Keith and on making sure he’s alright.

“I’m alright,” Keith says. “Really.”

“Let me be the judge of that,” Thace replies.

Shiro stands. “I need to check the matrix.”

Keith nods and tries to stand. “I’ll be on the comms — “

“No, you need to rest.” Shiro turns to Lotor. “I need you to stay on the comms so that you can tell me what you see on the monitors here and possibly press a few buttons. It won’t be hard.”

Lotor glances at the controls. “Is it truly so taxing that Keith cannot do it?”

“I can,” Keith assures them both.

Shiro shakes his head. “Keith, you need rest. We don’t know what just happened to you, and we’ll need you once we reach Haggar and Zarkon.”

Keith’s jaw clenches, but he inclines his head. “I suppose.”

“So I need you to do it,” Shiro says as he turns back to Lotor.

Lotor sighs, but he stands, brushing off invisible dust from his armor. “Alright.”

Shiro offers Lotor an encouraging smile and a nod before heading out of the cockpit, grabbing a flashlight as he goes.

 

* * *

 

Lotor does not sit down on the chair until Shiro calls him over the comms.

“I’m in the matrix. I need you to tell me the moment you see a light or hear anything, okay?”

“Alright,” Lotor replies and studies the monitors and controls before him, trying his best not to think of his father.

“One thing I don’t understand,” Shiro says over the comms. “I get that Haggar is doing something to Zarkon, but how did she get to the position to do anything to him in the first place?”

Lotor glances at Thace and Keith, at their curious expressions, and sighs. “She holds more power in the Empire than anyone would like to admit. My father has a fondness for her and he wants to keep her happy. And he trusts her. Those things give her control over him.”

“I can’t believe anyone would have control over Zarkon,” Shiro replies.

Keith laughs. “She does and for a good reason, trust me. They’ve been together since before Daibazaal was destroyed.”

Lotor frowns at him. Keith faces him without budging.

“She is not — “

“Technically she is,” Keith cuts in.

“Technically she is what?” Thace asks, glancing between the two of them.

Lotor narrows his eyes, but Keith ignores him.

“She’s what happens when you take an Altean into the rift,” Keith replies.

“Wait,” Shiro’s voice comes over the comms. “Is she... the only Altean to go to the rift is — “

Lotor grits his teeth. “She is _not_ — “

“Honerva,” Keith cuts in. “Yeah.”

“Who?” Thace asks, confused. Keith turns to him to answer.

“ _She is not my mother!_ ” Lotor surprises even himself, but at least everyone falls silent.

Keith is the first to regain his composure, and he clears his throat. “Technically.”

“There is nothing technical about it,” Lotor snaps. The Witch has no relation to him, he knows it. Keith is wrong and he just needs to realize it himself.

“She _was_ Honerva, now she’s not; even Zarkon agrees on that. He said... he said she forgot who she was and rebuild herself, and most of the time she has no idea who she was before the rift. So no, she’s not your mother in that sense; she’s not Honerva, she’s someone else living in her body. That doesn’t change the facts, and the longer you keep denying them the worse things are gonna end for all of us.” Keith levels Lotor with a stern look Zarkon would be proud of, but Lotor refuses to be swayed by it.

The Witch is _not_ his mother. She is not. She cannot be, not after everything she has done to Lotor — to his father. How could she do those things if she was his mother? His father’s wife? She could not, no matter how little she would remember of the past, something, some part of her would not allow her to hurt her family.

But...

“The fact that she’s what’s left of Honerva is why she has so much power over you father, and you _cannot_ ignore that if you want to help him,” Keith finishes.

Lotor looks away from Keith. “The controls are still not responding.”

A tick passes, then two. “I’m working on it,” comes Shiro’s quiet reply.

“Lotor?”

Lotor ignores Keith, staring resolutely at the controls.

“You know why Zarkon acts the way he does with you?” Keith waits, giving Lotor a chance to answer, but Lotor continues to ignore him. “It’s because you remind him of him too much.”

Lotor would argue, but it would accomplish nothing.

A light blinks on the monitor, saving Lotor from further conversation. “You did something right,” he tells Shiro. “I have a light.”

“Great. Where — “

“In the top left corner.”

“Okay,” Shiro replies. “Let me know when you see text, okay?”

“Alright.”

A moment later, he sees the text. “It says ‘initiate system reboot’,” he informs Shiro.

“Press yes,” Shiro tells him. Lotor reaches for the panel and — after a tick of hesitation — taps the triangle above the word yes.

“I’m coming back up,” Shiro informs them as the lights on the controls slowly come alive again.

Lotor gets up. “I think I will rest for a moment before we reach our destination. I suggest you all do the same; we need to be at our best game once we confront Haggar.”

“I agree,” Thace says and stands.

“I’ll stay with Shiro in case he needs help — don’t worry, I’ll stay put unless I have to move.” Keith smiles reassuringly at Thace. “It’s not like Shiro would let me do anything unless absolutely necessary anyways.”

“That’s true,” Shiro says as he enters the cockpit again. “But I could use Keith’s help with this part; he knows how the Lion’s work so we’ll get moving faster if he helps me rather than either of you.”

Shiro gives Lotor a sympathetic look before getting to work on the Lion, and Lotor hurries out of the cockpit.

 

* * *

 

They get moving an hour later, and to both Keith and Shiro’s relief, the Lion had locked onto Zarkon’s position before Shiro had so abruptly yanked Keith from the chair.

“Ready?” Shiro glances at Keith.

Keith nods, swallowing. Shiro nods as well, then he sets the course and flies towards his destination. Shiro doesn’t let himself think about anything but getting to the ship, and then stopping Zarkon and Haggar from opening the rift.

The Lion is beaten up and in need of a long rest, and there are far more warnings and alarms blinking on the monitors than Shiro would like, but when he reaches out to Black to apologize for pushing her so much, he only receives determination in return, and the Lion goes a little faster. Black is just as eager to stop Zarkon than they are, but Shiro isn’t sure if it’s because Black wants to protect the universe or...

They used to share a connection, not unlike the one Shiro and Black share now. No matter what happened, something of that still remains. Something has to, since Black had been able to bind Zarkon and Keith together.

Whatever it is, Shiro doesn’t care — not right now, anyways. They have a mission to complete; Shiro can have a long heart to heart with Black after they’ve succeeded in completing it.

Keith calls Lotor and Thace back into the cockpit half an hour before they reach their destination. They check their weapons, go over their plan — nonexistent at best, but they need to pretend they know what they’re doing — and take comfort in each others presence before their mission begins.

Soon a ship appears in their sensors.

“It is the Korya Zur,” Lotor explains. “Father allows Haggar to repurpose old ships when they are not useful anymore, and she uses them to build her machines and devices. The bottom part of the ship should be open, protected only by shielding and a force field. My codes should allow us to enter through them.”

“Should?” Shiro glances at him. “That’s not really reassuring.”

“If they won’t work, we’ll call Zarkon. He’ll let the Black Lion in,” Keith says.

Shiro doesn’t like it, but they have to get onto the ship, and they’re taking the Lion there anyways.

When they see the ship — not as big as the Central Command, but built in a similar way — Shiro slows down and asks Lotor to try his codes.

Lotor enters the code, and they all wait with baited breath.

“At least we don’t see a rift,” Keith offers as they wait.

The codes work, to everyone’s relief. Shiro flies the Lion closer, expecting to be fired upon, but nothing happens.

“Why aren’t we being attacked right now?” Thace asks.

“I imagine because we are using my codes to approach the vessel,” Lotor replies, though there’s a hint of hesitation in his voice.

Shiro nods and focuses on maneuvering the Lion safely through the force field protecting the bottom of the ship. There’s no walls, just a large, circular platform that could easily hold the Black Lion, with three walkways connecting to it and four clamps holding the platform in place.

“Fly to the platform above that one,” Lotor instructs. “This one is for the druids magic, so they might activate it and we will lose the Lion; the second one is there only as a backup so it should be safe.”

Shiro does as Lotor says, and flies past the first platform, to the one above it; a slightly smaller one, but otherwise the same. Shiro lands the Lion and encourages her to rest while they’re gone. The others are already at the door, getting out of the cockpit. Shiro follows them, his heart beating too loudly in his chest.

They get out of the Lion, and the silence outside is oppressing, like the force fields can keep the atmosphere in, but not the silence of the space out.

“I don’t like this,” Thace says.

“Neither do I, but it must be done,” Lotor replies.

Keith heads to one of the walkways, and the others follow his lead. They’re barely halfway across it when they hear a loud, mechanical whir and three loud clanks underneath them. Shiro looks down, his eyes widening when he sees the walkways of the platform beneath them collapsing in on themselves.

“We must hurry,” Lotor says, urgency clear in his voice. “The druids are about to activate their device.”

Keith doesn’t need another encouragement to move, and neither does Shiro. They run the rest of the way, only stopping when they reach the end of the walkway, the mechanics around them coming alive, lights flickering on, clamps unsealing, the sounds of it all filling the air.

Shiro doesn’t pay attention to it, but he stops to take a look at the strip of glass wall beside them.

“The druids harvest the quintessence into those,” Thace explains. “That is the largest container I have seen.”

“The ship is the container,” Lotor says, already heading towards the doors at the end of the level they are on. Shiro has counted three levels, with the one above them lacking a circle platform, but having railings running at its edges.

“What do you mean the ship is the container?” Shiro asks as he hurries after Lotor.

“That is merely where they harvest the quintessence; there are pumps on the other side of the glass, and they lead to other containers similar to this one. They are filled one by one and then replaced with an empty one.” Lotor glances over his shoulder. “I would avoid contact with them when they are full; the quintessence in them tends to be potent enough to cause severe harm to a Galra in a mere tick.”

Shiro makes a point of walking a step further from the container.

“Can you find Zarkon?” Shiro asks Keith once they’re properly inside the ship.

Keith stops, closing his eyes. After a few seconds he shakes his head. “No.”

“Then we find Haggar,” Lotor says. “She is most likely in her laboratory, and Father is usually by her side when she runs such important experiments.”

Keith inclines his head. “Which way?”

Lotor heads to the right, and the others follow. They reach an elevator moment later and they all get in, and Lotor orders the elevator to take them to Haggar’s laboratory.

“We could’ve just used the location system of the computers,” Thace points out.

“Haggar does not use the same network as the rest of the Empire does, and I have no clearance to access her security systems,” Lotor replies.

The elevator moves swiftly and silently through the ship, and Shiro tries not to fidget. He’s too anxious, too tense, and he can’t calm down like he usually can. The elevator stops and the door open, and for a few seconds nobody moves. Then Keith huffs, squares his shoulders and marches out of the elevator.

Keith doesn’t ask for directions as he strides through the hallways, and he doesn’t hesitate when he opens the doors at the end of one.

The druids stop their work when they see Keith and the others, and Shiro imagines they’re surprised under their masks. They don’t stop Keith as he strides across the room, to where Haggar is.

“What are you doing here?” Haggar demands as Keith approaches her. Shiro tries to follow him, but Lotor takes a hold of his arm and stops him, shaking his head minutely when Shiro glances at him.

“I want to talk to Zarkon,” Keith responds.

“He is unavailable at the moment,” Haggar says, turning back to her monitors. “You may leave now.”

Keith crosses his arms. “No. You’re telling me where Zarkon is, or I’m going to — “

“What?” Haggar turns to Keith. “What are _you_ going to do? What could you possibly do?”

Keith doesn’t reply — how could he? Haggar is a ten thousand year old witch, Keith has no way of defeating her.

“You cannot use the Korya Zur,” Lotor says. “The Alteans are counting on you opening the rift and harvesting the quintessence so that they can steal it.”

Haggar laughs. “No one steals from me.” She turns to her druids. “Prepare for deployment.”

The druids bow, most of them either heading out of the doors or disappearing into thin air, and the remaining one’s take their stations and start working on their computers.

Keith pulls his blade out and bridges the distance between him and Haggar, and strikes the blade deep into the Haggar’s computer screen. Haggar responds by throwing a ball of magic at Keith, sending him flying into the nearest wall.

“Keep working,” she orders the druids when they stop what they are doing, and approaches Keith.

“Keith!” Shiro runs towards him, but Haggar throws another ball of magic, this time at him, forcing Shiro to take cover. Lotor ducks as well, but Thace rushes towards Keith, dodging the bolts of magic directed at him.

Cursing under his breath, Shiro leaves his cover and runs towards Haggar, trying to give her a more appealing target. Someone has to make sure Keith is alright, and Shiro will be damned if he doesn’t do everything in his power to help make that happen.

As Shiro hoped, Haggar turns to him, and raises his hand.

 

* * *

 

Keith groans, his body aching from the contact with the wall. His ears flatten at the sound of explosions, but when he opens his eyes Thace is there, blocking his field of vision.

“Are you hurt?”

Keith shakes his head. “No, I’m.... I’m fine. Just banged up.”

Thace is silent for a tick too long. “You just took a blast of magic from Haggar, you cannot be fine.”

“But I am,” Keith insists. “Look, this isn’t the time to worry about that, we need to —“ A druid appears behind Thace, but rather than attack them, they crouch by Thace’s side. And they’re carrying a small medical kit.

“I’m fine,” Keith repeats.

“I can see that,” the familiar voice of Kiira replies from behind the mask. “I brought you pain medication. You get it once you explain what is going on.”

Keith lets out a breath, relieved to have his friends there. Then he turns more serious again. “Haggar has done something to Zarkon to get him to agree to opening the rift; I can’t feel him through the bond, and just a few days ago we had no shields between us — Alfor destroyed them. Now there’s just fog between us. Worse of all, if she harvests the quintessence, Alfor is going to take it from you. He’ll come here with those ships you can’t fight, and he’ll take the quintessence. He can’t open the rift and harvest the quintessence like Haggar can, so he’s counting on her to harvest the quintessence for him. Imagine what Alfor can do if he has the pure quintessence from the rift.”

Kiira is silent for a moment, then she inclines her head, gives Keith a shot of pain medication, and offers her hand to Keith. “I will assist you.”

“Thanks,” Keith says and takes her hand, and lets her pull him up. “How?”

“Take a deep breath, and let it out slowly. Stay calm, but be ready,” Kiira replies, moving Keith to stand in front of her, pressing her hand between Keith’s shoulder blades.

Haggar is firing balls of magic at Shiro and Lotor, the two of them doing everything in their power to keep her occupied without getting killed in the process.

“Be ready,” Kiira repeats. “And think about where you want to be.”

Keith grits his teeth and inclines his head.

The world distorts around him. Everything slows down until nothing seems to move, the colors growing muted, gaining a purplish haze. It’s almost like he’s halfway to the place Black had taken him to. Remembering Kiira’s words, Keith thinks of standing beside Haggar. The world moves around Keith until he’s by Haggar’s side, and everything crashes into focus again.

Haggar’s eyes widen, but she recovers fast enough to disappear before Keith can grab her. Keith’s ears twist back, and he ignores everything but finding Haggar. She can’t have gone too far.

On a feeling, Keith runs towards the computer terminal on his left. He reaches it a mere second after Haggar, and he tries to grab her before she disappears again.

But Haggar is faster.

Keith swirls around and takes a step forward, then he jumps back just before Haggar appears again, throwing another ball of magic at him. It misses, and Keith rushes Haggar again. She disappears, but Keith turns around, so sure he’ll land a hit if he punches the air behind him.

Haggar appears from thin air, and Keith’s fist connects with her jaw, sending her to the ground. Haggar is too shocked to disappear immediately, and Keith grabs her, his ears flattening, a growl escaping his throat.

“Don’t _ever_ mess with Zarkon again, or I will kill you! You don’t get to use him to further your own agenda, and you don’t hurt him or use him. You don’t do that!” Keith glares at Haggar, who stares at him without blinking, hiding whatever she’s thinking too well.

After a few long seconds, Haggar takes a hold of Keith’s wrist, squeezing with so much force Keith can’t help but grit his teeth to keep himself from groaning in pain as his bones grind together. He lets go of Haggar, and she stands, still holding Keith’s wrist. “Do not threaten me.”

Keith bares his teeth, and Haggar only squeezes his wrist harder. Keith can feel something cracking, but he doesn’t let it show on his face.

“You can do nothing to me,” Haggar continues. “You are nothing more than an ignorant child who too deep in things you do not understand. Do not make me harm you by stepping over your place.”

Keith pulls out his dagger and swings it at Haggar. She lets go of Keith, disappearing, then appearing again by a computer terminal across the room. She does something on the computer, then disappears again. This time she doesn’t appear again, and soon the rest of the druids — save for Kiira — leave the laboratory as well.

“How did you do that?” Lotor asks once they’re alone.

“Do what?” Keith asks, panting and holding his wrist close to his chest.

“You knew where she was going to appear.”

Keith shakes his head. “No, I — I just... I don’t know. I guessed and got lucky.”

“Keith is highly sensitive to quintessence,” Kiira says, then tilts her head. “And possibly immune to our magic, at least to a degree.”

“Lotor, Kiira. Kiira, Lotor.” Keith waves between them. “She’s a friend.”

Lotor eyes Kiira dubiously, but he doesn’t say anything. Shiro smiles at Kiira and thanks her for her help, though he’s not entirely comfortable when Kiira insists on checking he’s alright. Lotor refuses to let her check him, but Keith is more than happy to have her wrap his wrist with a bandage.

“You will need to get that treated later,” Kiira tells him, and Keith assures her he will.

An alarm sounds once, catching everyone’s attention.

“What was that?” Shiro asks.

“That would be the High Priestess opening the rift,” Kiira replies. “Hold on to something.”

No one questions Kiira; they all grab a hold of something a moment before the ship shakes violently and the lights turn brighter.

“And that?” Keith turns to Kiira.

“That is the Korya Zur activating.”

Keith’s face drains of all color.

“How long until she’s pulling the quintessence from the rift?” Thace asks.

“She has already started,” Kiira replies, her voice gaining a grim edge.

Keith curses under his breath and turns to Kiira. “Where is Zarkon?”

If he can talk to Zarkon, then maybe they can stop Haggar before she gets more than a little of the quintessence harvested. If he can talk to Zarkon, they can fix this, they have to. They can at least tell Zarkon that Alfor is coming and he can prepare for that. They can’t let Alfor get the quintessence, not after the trouble they’ve gone through to get here.

“I believe he is on the third level by now. He was resting before — the High Priestess said the Emperor has been injured so he does that a lot these days,” Kiira says.

“Okay. We need to get this ship either evacuated or ready for an attack. I’m betting Alfor is already on his way here, and we have to be ready for that. We can’t let him get the quintessence,” Keith says, turning to Kiira. “Will you help?”

Kiira inclines her head. “Of course.”

“Thank you. Lotor, Thace, can you help her? You two know these systems better than me, and Shiro might need to get to Black.” Keith looks from Thace to Lotor, and they both agree to do as Keith asks.

“Great. Then get to it.” Keith is already running to the doors, Shiro close at his heels.

They run to the elevator and take it down to the third level, and Keith can’t stop moving the whole ride there. He has to get to Zarkon. He has to make Zarkon realize this is a horrible idea. The elevator isn’t moving fast enough, and Keith has to get to Zarkon _now_.

As soon as the doors open, Keith rushes down the hallway and to the doors that lead to the third level. Keith slams his hand on the control panel so hard it smarts, but he doesn’t care. He has to get to Zarkon, nothing else matters.

The doors open and Keith bolts through them, barely noticing Shiro following him.

To Keith’s surprise, Haggar is there, observing the container Shiro had spotted earlier through its glass glass top.

The container that is full of blinding, white quintessence.

“I thought you would be here sooner.”

“Are you insane?” Keith snaps. “Did you hear anything I said? Do you not realize what a massive mistake you’ve just made?”

“And what mistake would that be?” Zarkon asks. Keith swirls around at his voice, his throat clenching at how exhausted Zarkon looks. Keith had known what Alfor had done, but seeing Zarkon look so worn, so... ill, breaks his heart. Even Zarkon’s breathing has gone back to being that raspy wheeze it was when Keith had first arrived on Haggar’s ship.

Keith wants to scream. He wants to take Black and fly across space and take on Alfor head on, to turn around and have another go at Haggar for taking advantage of Zarkon’s state — to just fight anyone and anything hurting Zarkon.

“And why are you here?” Zarkon adds as he walks past Keith and Shiro, the golden embroidery of his cape — it must be new as Keith doesn’t recall seeing it before — glinting when the light of the quintessence hits it. Zarkon narrows his eyes at Shiro as he passes him before his attention zeroes in on Haggar and the blood still on her face. He goes to her, touching her chin gently. “What happened?”

“Keith,” Haggar replies, though her voice lacks accusation. She is simply stating a fact.

Zarkon turns to Keith, raising an eyebrow.

“She deserved it,” Keith says, his tail twisting. “I need you to talk to me,” he says after a second, not knowing how else to make Zarkon understand.

“I am,” Zarkon points out.

“No, here.” Keith taps his head, and though Zarkon sighs — why would he do that? — he does as Keith asks.

Keith reaches for Zarkon through the fog, but though he gets a stronger sense of Zarkon, they can’t get through to each other — not fully.

Zarkon frowns.

Haggar backs away before turning and heading towards the computer terminal at the other end of the room. She continues working even when Zarkon turns to her.

“What did you do?” Zarkon demands, all niceness gone from his voice.

“What was necessary,” Haggar replies. The glass at the top of the quintessence container whirs, then splits into four parts and slides to the sides. Haggar taps the controls, then takes a bottle from behind the terminal, along with a long stick. She attached the bottle to the stick, then lowers the bottle into the quintessence. “He was going to be a hindrance. The barrier will dissipate on its own soon enough, and it will not cause either of you any harm, so do not worry.”

Zarkon walks towards Haggar, and she has the sense to pull the bottle quickly from the quintessence and step away from him.

But whatever Zarkon was going to tell her dies on his lips when he spot the Black Lion on the lower level. Haggar takes the opportunity to slip back into the ship through the doors nearest to her, and she doesn’t bother closing the container before leaving.

Keith assumes they’ll be surrounded by druids soon enough since she thought it safe to leave the container open as he hurries to Zarkon, grabbing his arm.

“No. Zarkon, focus on me,” Keith pleads.

Zarkon gives him a halfhearted shove in return and follows the railing towards the doors. Keith only grips his arm tighter, trying to keep him still. He glances at Shiro over his shoulder, unsure of what to do. Shiro nods encouragingly, and Keith turns back to Zarkon.

“Focus on me, okay? You have to listen to me. Please, Zarkon, listen to me.” Keith’s wrist is on fire and his heart is going to explode soon, but he focuses on getting Zarkon to listen to him. Keith wishes he had the bond to help him. He can’t do this without the bond. How is he supposed to get Zarkon away from the Lion without the bond?

“Please,” Keith whispers, even if his heart breaks when Zarkon pushes him away again and tries to head to the door, despite Keith clinging to his arm. “Zarkon, please. I need you to listen to me.”

By some miracle, Zarkon stops and turns to Keith, though he clearly doesn’t want to be doing it.

Keith smiles, ready to cry from the sheer joy of having Zarkon’s attention. “I... I get that you want the Lion, but right now isn’t the time to start obsessing over it. Before we left the Castleship — everyone but Allura, that is. They still have Red and Blue, but we have the other Lions — Coran heard Trigel and Gyrgan talk about harvesting the quintessence from the rift, but not being able to do it themselves. So Alfor wants you to open the rift and harvest the quintessence because they don’t have the means to do it themselves, and then steal it from you. Alfor is going to be here any second now and he’s going to take that quintessence, and who knows how powerful he’ll be once he has it.”

Zarkon blinks, and he stops leaning away from Keith. “Are you sure of that?”

Keith nods, praying he’s wrong. “Yes.” Keith turns to Shiro, surprised to see him talking quietly on his comm. “What is it?”

Shiro looks up to him. “Kiira is picking a wormhole forming on the sensors. Alfor is going to be here... well... now.”

Keith turns to Zarkon. “We have to get rid of the quintessence and close the rift.”

Zarkon stares at Keith, the prospect of Alfor’s arrival sending him into a shock, but when Keith squeezes his arm, Zarkon inclines his head. “I will put the ship on alert.”

Keith lets go of Zarkon so that he can move to the computer terminal. Keith stays close to him, but when Shiro joins him, Keith spares him a tense smile and goes to him instead.

“That went well,” Shiro says.

Keith lets out a breath. “Yeah. Let’s just get past the next few minutes alive.”

The outside of the ship flashes, and a few seconds later the ship shudders from the impact of the first shot being fired at it.

“They’re here,” Shiro says, gripping the railing to keep himself steady.

“I can see that,” Zarkon replies, and Keith almost laughs at his unimpressed tone.

The Alteans do a quick work of destroying the shields and the weapons systems with their nimble yet powerful ships, and when they shoot the lowest platform off, alarms blare to life, and for a second the force fields let the vacuum of space in. The Alteans fire, and the lowest level turns to rubble, the gravity of the rift pulling the few remaining bits and pieces of it in. The edges of the second platform crumble as well, but it doesn’t break.

The force fields reset fast, pulling closer to the second platform where the Black Lion still is. The Castleship appears behind the smaller ships, and the shot it fires nearly topples the ship, sending Keith and Shiro crashing to the floor.

And Zarkon straight into the quintessence.

Keith screams, the shock he gets through the bond searing through his brain. He has to get Zarkon out of there. He can’t... the quintessence is too much. It’s too much and it’s going to tear them both to shreds, starting with their minds.

The ship shakes and crumbles around them, the pull of the rift tearing it apart faster and faster at every passing second now that the Alteans have decimates the ships shields.

Suddenly Shiro is there, pulling Keith away from the falling rubble. “Are you hurt?”

“Zarkon —“

“We'll help him, don’t worry.” Shiro yanks Keith to his feet. “We need to close the rift.”

The bond is...

Keith can feel it. He can feel it clear as day and there's a lump in his throat that wasn't there before. He has to help Zarkon. He has to get him out of the quintessence.

It's already getting to him, and all Keith feels through the bond is... Keith doesn’t even know what; an overpowering need to get away from the quintessence, to get more of it, more of the power and the life it pulses with, to get as far away from the insanity it brings with it, to protect the ship and the people on it — _his_ people — from Alfor at any cost.

They get moving, Shiro pulling Keith along, Keith trying not to crumble under the strain of the bond. They’ve barely reached the doors when a shot form one of the Altean ships shatters the quintessence container, sending the quintessence everywhere, coating everything in a sheen of glistening white.

Shiro yanks Keith through the doors and drags him to the elevator that he has to order Keith to operate. Keith’s head is splitting from the wave of emotions and thoughts Keith can’t make sense of and insanity pouring through the bond, and the only things that come through clear is _the Black Lion_ and _protect._

Somehow, Keith stumbles out of the elevator first, and he doesn’t wait to see if Shiro follows. The ship shakes around them, a piece of the ceiling falling to the ground behind them, but Keith doesn’t slow down. He bursts through the doors to the second level, scanning his surroundings frantically for Zarkon.

The quintessence glistens around them, almost blinding where the lights of the battle hit it, dripping towards the rift and the failing force fields keeping them safe from the vacuum of space.

The ship is slowly (too fast way too fast) crumbling to pieces that fall and hit the force field with a sound like a metal cable being sprung.

But Keith only cares about Zarkon, sitting in the middle of glass shards and quintessence on the other side of the too long . There's a faint, ethereal glow to him from the quintessence he'd been dosed in, and when their eyes meet Keith sees Zarkon's are shining from the quintessence, almost like they're bleeding the substance out of him, drifting in the air in small fleck of bright, purple light as if the artificial gravity doesn’t affect them.

“Zarkon,” Keith breathes, taking a halting step forward. Zarkon looks away from Keith and stands, the glass screeching against the metal of the floor under his hands and feet. The cape drags behind Zarkon as he heads towards the Black Lion, heavy from the quintessence soaked into it.

Keith swallows. There was nothing there, no recognition in Zarkon's eyes or even the tiniest change in the bond when their eyes met. There was nothing of _Zarkon_ there. Just the quintessence and the need to get to the Black Lion.

The ship quakes again, nearly toppling over, and though Keith and Shiro manage to stay upright, Zarkon falls on the walkway, halfway to the Black Lion, and a thick, metal bar falls on his leg, pinning him down. Zarkon doesn’t even register it until he can’t get back up.

“Shiro?” Keith's voice is soft and quiet as he turns to face Shiro.

“Yes?”

“We need to stabilize the ship. We'll fall into the rift if we don't.” Keith stares at Shiro, refusing to let the onslaught of too much everything lashing against his mind through the bond affect him.

Shiro nods. “I'll get Lotor and Thace on it too.”

Keith inclines his head, his eyes darting around until he spots Zarkon again. “You do that. I'll...”

Shiro touches Keith's arm, squeezing it tightly as he gets a hold of Thace and sends them to work on the stabilizer and on figuring out a way to close the rift immediately. He stays by Keith's side himself, but Keith pays him no mind; his focus is on Zarkon pushing the metal bar off of him before standing, his footing unsure, unable to put his weight on his injured leg but not allowing it to keep him down either.

Zarkon, who had changed so much as Keith had gotten to know him, had allowed Keith to see what’s behind the mask he wears every day, had allowed Keith to see the weakness he hides.

Zarkon, who had reached for him the moment he had woken up from a months long coma, despite their nearly destroyed bond.

Zarkon, who had let him go when Keith had asked, because he had trusted Keith would come back to him.

Zarkon, who Keith had gotten so mad at and lashed out at, and left him standing among a burning town center littered with the bodies of his own people, and who had been the first to apologize for the fight. Who had protected Keith for days even though the pain it had caused him.

Even after Keith had hurt him — intentionally — in that destroyed town, in the middle of the fire and death, even when he'd seen and felt the pain he was causing Zarkon, and he isn’t sure if he can ever apologize for that.

“Go,” Shiro says, shocking Keith out of his head.

“What?”

Shiro touches Keith arm, hesitant, and Keith meets his sad eyes. “He needs you, and you want to go, so go. It’s okay, I’ll be alright. Go help him while I’ll fix this mess.”

Keith frowns and shakes his head. “I don’t want to leave you.”

Shiro brushes his knuckles against Keith’s cheek. “You’re not leaving me. I’ll always be here, and I know you’ll always be there for me too. But right now he needs you, and you want to be with him, so go.”

“But — “

“No buts,” Shiro says. “I love you, I do, but... I know you. I know you won’t leave me unless you absolutely have to, so I’m telling you, it’s okay. I know you love him and you want to be with him, and it’s _okay_. You won’t lose me just because you go to him. You’ll never lose me. We’re always gonna find each other, and we’ll always have each other, but this isn’t where you want to be — not right now — so don’t worry about me and just go and save Zarkon like you came here to do.”

Keith stares at Shiro for a long second, before surging forward and kissing him, pouring all his love and adoration and desperation into it. And Shiro kisses him back the same way.

“I love you,” Keith whispers against Shiro’s lips, then adds, more quietly, more to himself than Shiro, “ _Ashaya.”_

“I love you too,” Shiro says. “Now go and save Zarkon. He needs you more than I do. Just take care of yourself, okay?”

Keith nods. “I promise.” He turns on his heels and runs, away from Shiro and towards Zarkon.

And he doesn’t look back.

The ship tilts dangerously when Keith reaches the nearest walkway, and he stumbles, falling against the railing and losing sight of Zarkon. Equipment and chunks of the ship fall into the rift, and Keith scrambles to his feet as soon as the violent tremors turn into occasional trembling, fearing Zarkon to have fallen as well.

He runs to the direction Zarkon had gone — where the Black Lion is — barely staying upright as the ship tilts again, this time staying at a borderline dangerous degree. The stabilizers must have finally given out.

Keith finds Zarkon by the Black Lion, quintessence pooling around him like blood as he pushes himself to his elbows on the ground he'd fallen onto.

Keith half runs, half slides across the walkway, tripping and nearly falling down more than once as he rushes to Zarkon, circles him, and falls on the ground in front of him, blocking his way to the Lion sprawled broken on the very edge of what remains of the platform. The Lion has taken her fair share of damage in the attack, but that’s not what Keith cares about; he doesn’t care if the Lion never flies again.

“I'm here,” Keith says as he throws his arms around Zarkon's shoulders and holds him as tightly as he can. “I'm here. I love you and I'm sorry for the things I said when we were in that town, and I’m sorry I left you even when I promised I’d never do that, but I'm here now.”

Zarkon fights his hold, but there's something odd about it, like he doesn't realize that it's Keith holding him down. Like he doesn't even realize he's being held down.

Keith only holds him tighter, tears pooling in his eyes. “I came back, just like I promised.”

Zarkon is so tense and unaware of Keith's existence. Unaware of everything but the Lion and the quintessence coursing through his veins and the power he could wield if he _just went into the rift_ , and how it would make it so easy for him to keep his people safe this time around.

“I love you,” Keith sniffles. “Please don't do this. Come back to me. I need you to come back to me.”

Zarkon lets out a soft noise, like he's in pain, and Keith holds him closer. “Don't leave me. You promised you'd never leave me. Please. I love you.” Keith digs his blunt claws into Zarkon’s cape, pushing all of his emotions through the madness that fills their bond. “I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. Just come back to me.”

The platform cracks, and Zarkon tries to pull away from Keith who refuses to let go of him, even as he fights Keith, even as the bond doesn’t feel anything like Zarkon anymore. “Please. You are mine as I am yours, c _herya._ ”

Slowly, so painfully slowly, Zarkon shifts, and puts his arms loosely around Keith. There's something so pained about the bond, about the ragged way Zarkon is breathing, and the quintessence bleeding out of him like blood. Keith holds him as tightly as he can as the platform groans dangerously under them. “I'm here and I love you. Please come back to me. Don't leave me alone.”

Zarkon grips Keith's coat like his life depends on it, and Keith nuzzles his cheek. “Come back to me.”

Zarkon lets out a soft noise and buries his face in Keith's neck, his shoulders trembling almost like he's crying. Keith presses a hand on the back of his neck and holds him close. “Stay with me, _cherya._ Just stay with me. I'm right here. Just hold on to me.”

And Zarkon does. He holds Keith so tightly it hurts, but Keith doesn't care. The turmoil of the bond is making way for something so clearly, uniquely _Zarkon_ and Keith doesn't care about anything else. Through all the insanity and pain and desire for more quintessence and the obsessive need protect his people, there's something of Zarkon desperately clawing its way to Keith, and Keith welcomes it with open arms, and shelters it within his mind and heart, cherishing it.

Swearing he’ll die protecting it if he has to.

The force field fails again and the platform cracks, the sound of it deafening in the quiet of the space, and Keith's world tilts. “I'm never letting you go,” he whispers as the platform crumbles to pieces and they fall.

Zarkon holds on to Keith, and Keith holds on to him, and for that moment there's nothing but peace around them.

Shiro calls out for him in the distance, but Keith barely hears it. He has Zarkon cradled in his arms, and they're falling slowly and fast and in the freezing cold of the space but the quintessence still oozing out of Zarkon keeps them warm.

And Keith has Zarkon, and Zarkon has him.

_I love you._ Keith thinks it with his entire being, and smiles when he feels a grateful, relieved wave from Zarkon.

_As I love you._

It's quiet and soft and if it wasn't for the dead silence of the space Keith might have missed it.

The force field snaps back into place, separating Keith and Zarkon from the rest of the ship. Keith sees Shiro on the edge of the broken level the platform had just been a part of, and the Lion falling ahead of them, the empty quietness of space almost peaceful around them.

And Keith is so tired. His head hurts from what Alfor had done to him, from the quintessence affecting Zarkon, and he’s tired of the war and the constant fighting and not being able to have a moment of calmness or even chance to stop and breathe, not even for a second.

Zarkon holds Keith tighter, and maybe that’s all that matters.

Keith closes his eyes, pressing his face into the crook of Zarkon’s neck, and welcomes the blinding, calm brightness of the rift swallowing them whole.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I'd throw Zarkon into the rift! I was listening to [ this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pHYVYHDKMaI) months and months ago when I decided on this ending, and pretty much everything from the moment Zarkon shows us is actually one of the first scenes I put down for this fic.
> 
> As always, you can find me on [ Twitter](https://twitter.com/Saremina__) where I'll be posting writing updates and more art/previews/a Lost&Found playlist, or send me a message through [ Curious Cat](https://curiouscat.me/Saremina__) (since I finally got around to getting an account there) if you have any questions.
> 
> Since I didn't do fic requests last Christmas due to time restraints, I'm doing them now as kofi requests (more info about that on my twitter).
> 
> The next part of this series is going to be an interlude, and it will be posted when I'm done writing it since it won't be incredibly long. I'll post more accurate info on the date on twitter when I'm a little further into writing the fic.
> 
> I hope you liked this!


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